The Human Condition
by C.K. Talons
Summary: He never had it easy. But now Harry Potter is faced with a new challenge an enemy he cannot see. But before Harry can consider battling his new foe, he must first control the demons within his mind. Written before publication of HBP.
1. The Whispers of Darkness

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***The Human Condition is a fan fiction. Some characters and select locations are based on the works of J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter copyrights belong to her, Bloomsbury Publishing, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic publishing. The concept of the IWBI and original characters belong to me and may not be used in other fan fictions. This story is not to be sold, reproduced, or passed off as your own. This story is appropriately rated PG-13 and is too mature for young children. There are **no** slash pairings, pornographic scenes, or an excess of profainity. This fiction is post-Hogwarts. Enjoy.***

the human condition

c.k. talons

Beta read by ElizabethCredere  


Chapter One: The Whispers of Darkness  


"Potter, Harry James," the top of the file read. It was a rather thick file, he thought again as he held it in his hands. He had read it several times, front to back, cover to cover. Yet even after taking in the content of what must have been pure hell to live, he still went back to the label as if mesmerized by those three words: Potter, Harry James.

"Good luck Doctor," a wizard said as he walked past.

"Thank you," he answered, "I'll need it." He took a deep breath, dropped the file on a desk next to the door, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He would need all the luck he could get.

"Are you the new one, sir?" a witch in green robes asked. She pointed at him, and with a look of deep concern, smiled.

"Yes," he said, readjusting his glasses. "I'm the new one," he mumbled.

"I hope you last," she answered. "Are you ready to see him?"

__

No, he thought. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said, moving closer to the door. She winked at him, waved her wand at the tall white door, and let him in. Once he walked through, the door closed with a great _whoosh_ and blended into the wall, making it look like there was no door at all.

He gazed around the room briefly, letting his eyes take in the darkened white room, whose blue shadows cast onto the ground like spilled paint. It was eerily quite, so much so that he could hear his heart beating and his shallow breathing. Then he looked to his right... and there he was.

Potter, Harry James was sitting on the white tile floor, holding his legs to his chest. He was posed in a corner, his head against the starch white wall; his eyes only halfway open. Potter hadn't moved when he came in. It was somewhat shocking to see this hero of the world, a conqueror and vanquisher of evil, sitting there so helplessly. Some of Potter's life records flashed before his mind as he looked at Harry, and while the read had been fascinating to say the least, he couldn't help but feel a squirming sensation in his stomach as he looked at the man who'd lived it.

"Hello Harry," he said.

Harry didn't flinch but continued his stare at the wall. He looked very pale, even in the dark room, and his cheeks seemed to be unhealthily sallow and sunken. Harry remained so stationary, one might take him as dead, but the doctor knew otherwise.

He walked over at sank down to the wall next to him. "I'm Doctor Marc Simon," he said, putting his hand out to Harry. Harry didn't even look at him from the corner of his eye. Instead, he tilted his head even further away from the doctor and closed his eyes. Marc continued. "I'm now your appointed counselor, Harry. I was sent here by the Ministry to check on you."

Harry sniffed indignantly and drew his lips up in a sneer.

"Would you like to say something?" Marc asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Just that the real reason that _you're_ here is to further your career, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes still sealed shut. "You get to analyze the mind of Harry Potter. What you must have done when you found that out. Did you jump for joy? Did you contact everyone you knew to tell them, 'Yes that's right, I get to question the Potter boy.' Or did you listen to all your other shrink friends as they boasted about their patients, and you smiled to yourself thinking that you had landed me?" Harry asked, twisting his neck to face him and opening his eyes ever so slowly. 

Marc repressed a shudder and did his best not to gape at his new patient. As he had observed when he first entered the room, Harry was unhealthily thin, making his face ghost-like in appearance. His shiny black hair was too long in the font, causing his bangs to droop into his eyes and over his square rimmed glasses. But those eyes... Perhaps it was because he was so pale, or that the contrast between his dark features and his ashen skin was already frightening enough, that his emerald green eyes seemed to glow with malice and crackle with magic.

The photos Marc had seen of this man were much different; depicting a handsome person, whose smile could light up a room. This Harry Potter was unlike any photo he'd seen of any person. Of course he might have looked quite handsome, even now, if there wasn't a desire in that face to convey fear and intimidation in his onlookers.

Marc tried to gain composure again, and then spoke. "And why do you think that?" he asked. Harry grinned, revealing his still very white teeth.

"Lucky guess I suppose," he said. He looked over the top rims of his glasses, smirking, at Marc and breathing quite steadily. "How did I fare?"

__

This is harder than I thought, Marc said to his brain. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage as Harry gave him that piercing gaze. "Well," he answered. "I am glad that I got you, Harry. I've always admired you for your strength and courage-"

Harry scoffed and shook his head, looking back to his wall. "I've heard enough lies in my life; please don't flatter me with them. I would like you much more if you admitted I was right. You're trying to further your career by adding me to your list of crackpots that you've analyzed. Or," he said, turning to face him again, "after I scared the last three shrinks out of here, you were the only one willing to give me a go. The truth, _Doctor_, will set you free. And if you expect me to give it to you, maybe you should give it to me. I deserve that at the very least."

Marc took a deep breath, knowing full well that Harry could hear it.

"Don't tell me I've made you nervous already," Harry said. "The last shrink took twenty minutes of me before she left. You're not going to let a woman beat you at this game, are you Doctor?"

"I read your history," Marc went on, ignoring his latest comments.

"I'm not surprised. I bet you couldn't put them down, could you? I bet you found my records fascinating, didn't you? Utterly suspenseful page turners, aren't they? Yeah, they should make a book on my life. It would be a best seller, no doubt. Maybe you could write it. It would make you more famous than just talking to me."

"It's clear to me, after reading them, why you're so rash. Losing so many people must have been hard. Just the simple fact of living without the love from a woman, whether it was your mother or your aunt, must have hardened your heart. Of course, you lived for so many years trapped in a place where no one appreciated you. It's understandable, based on that alone, that you're so... cold. Then there's Sirius. He was the closest to you that an adult ever was. His loss must have topped it all off."

__

Clap. Clap. Clap. 

"Bravo, Doctor. What a nice speech you just gave. How long did you practice that one? Did you rehearse it before they let you in my cell, or were you up late at night thinking about it?"

"Seeing so many people you knew fall to their deaths must have been devastating," he said, continuing to ignore his insults. "Reliving it in your dreams over and over again has to be hard."

"Oh so you're pulling out the big guns are you? Very brave of you Doctor. Did they teach you to do that at shrink school? Pull out the hard stuff and toss it in your patient's face if he's not paying attention to you? I don't know if that was wise, but it worked. You want to talk about death, do you? It's a compelling subject isn't it? Someone walks the earth and then he's gone. It's a simple concept but if you want to talk about it, then go right ahead."

"No, maybe it's not death then. Maybe it's what you did to Hermione," he said. Harry stopped smirking.

"I didn't do anything to her," he said coolly.

"But you did, Harry. Don't you remember? It was just a few days ago, you know. You started to scream at her, saying that you would never agree with her, that you would never give her what she wanted. She started to back away but you went after her and beat her up so badly that she had to be hospitalized. There were witnesses to this, Harry. The entire Weasley family watched as you attacked her and had to fight hard to stop you."

"I didn't hurt Hermione," Harry said with gritted teeth. "I would never hurt her."

"But you did. I have pictures of what you did to her," he said, reaching into his robes. Harry watched as Marc slowly pulled a large envelope from his inner robe pocket. Then he opened it, looked at it's contents, and showed pictures to Harry, one by one.

"I didn't..." Harry started, looking at the photos of Hermione's swollen face and bruised body.

"You did. You didn't seem to think it was her, though, did you? She had no idea what you were talking about when you asked. You were raving about a mystical woman, saying you would never take her offer. It was only after Fred, George, and Ron Weasley had pulled you off of her that you realized you were even there, right?"

Harry didn't answer verbally, but stared at him.

"That's why you're in St. Mungo's. After Law Enforcement took the report, they called us in to check on you and to check you in."

"I'm not crazy," Harry said to him, no strain of humor or sarcasm in his voice.

"I never said you were."

"Then why are you here?"

"It's like I said before, Harry. The Ministry sent me here to check on you and to talk to you. Something isn't right and I have to find out what."

"I didn't hurt Hermione," Harry continued, his voice shaking.

"You didn't mean to hurt her, she and I both know that, but you did. The report that you filed with Law Enforcement says that you thought she was someone else. It also said you believed that you were somewhere else, not at the Weasley's residence. You claimed to be in 'Ithaca' which you say resides in a parallel universe. But the Weasley's saw you at their home the entire time you claim to have been...well...somewhere else."

"Well I was," he said, clenching his hands into fists.

"Ithaca was written in Greek myth as one of the most beautiful places in the world. The mystical woman you thought to be Hermione was also described as someone from myth."

Harry furrowed his brow and frowned. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Marc's heart skipped; he tried concealing his joy. "I want to hear your story, the entire story, from where it all began. I want to understand why you did what you did. I want to know you, Harry. I've wanted to know you before any of this happened. Tell me what went on. Tell me about the Black Order, your injury, Ithaca. I want to know, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, which drooped down to his knees. "No," he mumbled.

"W-Why not?" Marc asked.

"Because I said no, that's why not," Harry snapped back. "Why can't anyone take my word for it? Why won't anyone believe what I say? I'm tired of it all, you hear me? I'm tired. I want out. I said she existed, I said she was real, but no one believes me, so you lock me up in this cage. I'm tired of being doubted, I'm tired of the Ministry sending in shrinks like you to figure me out. I'm tired of it. I want out, you hear me? Out!"

"Harry I-" 

"Don't address me as if you've known me for years. Leave me alone, okay, leave me the hell alone! I hate all of you! I hate all of you!" he yelled at him. "Get out of here!"

"NO!" Marc screamed back, scooting closer to Harry. "I will not get out of here. I want to help you, I want to hear you! I will not walk out on you, _Mr. Potter_! I will listen to what you have to say for several reasons. One, I'm paid to do it. Two, I want to. Three, you need help. And four, you can't even consider leaving this place if you don't talk to someone like me!"

Harry pushed off the floor and stood up, holding onto the wall for support. Marc stood up as well and stared right back at him.

"I don't like you," Harry told him, folding his arms and leaning on the wall. "I hate you, actually."

"Good," Marc returned, "I hate you, too. So it's mutual."

Harry simply stared for a while, then smirked. "What are you trying to do here? Are you trying to get on my side or what?"

"Is it working?" Marc asked.

"It might be," Harry said. "But I'm not saying I've decided yet. You're arrogant to think you can understand me."

"And you're arrogant to think you're too complex to be understood."

"Don't call me arrogant," Harry responded, slipping back down to the floor. "Don't ever call me arrogant."

Marc made a mental note to himself about this, then crouched back down to be eye level with Harry. They stared at each other for several minutes, letting the silence of the room penetrate their ears. Marc wondered how long the stare down would continue, but just as he did Harry blinked and looked down.

"What kind of charms are on this room, anyway?" he asked.

"Plenty. Mostly security charms, as you've busted your way out of the past four rooms you've been in, as well as some nourishment charms, for you refuse to eat or drink. I also believe they have put on a disabling charm, which is why you're so weak."

Harry smirked again. 

"What is it now?" Marc asked.

"A disabling charm. It's slightly satisfying to know they can't handle me in my peak condition," he said, nodding to Marc.

"So what's it going to be? Are you going to talk to me?"

Harry narrowed his eyes as he looked back at him. "You think I've let you in just because I told you that? You must not have done well in school. What did you get in basic psychology, a D? You expect me to tell a stranger about my life? Yes, you must have done terribly in school. Where did you go? I bet it was the London Medical Institute, wasn't it? Yeah. Class of 1990. You were in the middle of the year, not to bright but not to stupid to fail. The first moron who came to break into my head was in the lower to middle percent of his class, but since you're number four I expect they've gone up the scale.

"And you're divorced aren't you? Yeah, you have that divorced look about you. The look of a failed love life gone so wrong. She filed, didn't she? It was probably because you bored her to death with your constant analysis of her every move. You don't have any children, and you regret that. You've always liked them, I guess because they're simple to figure out. Still, it's best you didn't bring any into the world; you'd chase them away from you as well."

Marc kept eye contact with him, but judging by the malicious grin on Harry's face, he was doing more than just staring.

"It's a gift I've developed over the years," Harry explained. "I know people by just looking at them. Seeing as how you were captivated by my life history, I think it's only fair if I know some of yours. But you remarried," he continued, "and now she's having an affair with the next door neighbor. He's much better looking than you are, and he's around all the time, while you're here with me, trying to further your dismal career."

Marc folded his hands uncomfortably on his knees. "You learned this by becoming an Auror?" he asked.

Harry grinned again. "Something like that."

"Hmmm," Marc said, looking down at the floor, any place but in those eyes. "It's impressive, no doubt about that. Is that what you did to the past doctors?"

"I thought wizards didn't use the term 'doctor.' Why aren't you called 'healers' like the others? Is it because you can't cure the mentally insane?"

"We're called doctors because of the degree in the study. But you evaded my question, Mr. Potter. Did you do this to your past psychologists?"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "You can easily find that out, you know. But to answer your question so you don't have to ask the so called experts who are constantly watching me, yes I did. They, unfortunately for them, couldn't master their own emotions."

"Like you can?" Marc asked in what he hoped was a sarcastic tone.

"No," Harry said calmly, now swaying one his legs from side to side. "After all, I don't have to when I'm in here."

Marc stopped crouching and sat on the floor facing him. "You think you're very clever, don't you?"

"Not so much," Harry answered in stride.

"Why don't we start, with your return from a three month absence to the Ministry. I believe it was November 3, 2003?"

"Oh, doctor," Harry said with a fake sigh, "you were doing so well before then. You can't just jump into that right away."

"I can't?" he asked.

"No, you can't. I haven't decided on you yet, for one. I'm not sure if I like your attitude, or even the way you look. Of course, the witch who came before you was quite lovely, I just hated her snide attitude," he said with a smirk. "But I'm going to let you in on a little secret, so listen up. You need me a whole lot more than I need you, you got that, Marc? I need no one. Not you, not those wizards who are watching us right now, not even the bloody Minister of Magic. No one. But you, you need this to go well so you can please all of your bosses. But me, well I'll break out of here eventually, it's just a matter of when. So here's how it's going to go. You play by my rules. You do as I say. You can ask me questions about anything. But I choose what I want to answer. I'll answer the entire truth, of course, for I have nothing to lie about. When I don't want to be questioned and analyzed anymore, then you have to leave, is that perfectly clear?"

Marc considered him for a moment. If he agreed to his rules, which were not that extreme but rather reasonable, he would be able to question Harry and get the answers. He was lucky number four, and he could get it if he just did as Harry asked.

"Fine," he answered, "but you tell me the truth," he said, pointing his finger at Harry and raising his eyebrows.

Harry made a funny face with his jaw, tilting it to the side and biting his lower lip. "I'll tell you the truth. 'Course, I've been telling the truth for years, no one really wants to listen to it..." Harry brought one of his knees to his chest again, but let the other sway. He swiped several stray black hairs from his eyes, and let his hand rub his rough face. "So?" he said. "What's the first question?"

Marc was so surprised that Harry was going to let him question him, that he, Marc, completely lost his train of thought. He scrambled in his pocket for a notepad and quill.

"It's not a crime scene, doctor. Don't you think a recording device would be more appropriate?" Harry asked.

Marc looked up at him and nodded.

"You don't have to be so nervous, you know. It's not as if I'm going to attack you when you're not looking," Harry said. He put his hand out on his knee and opened it in Marc's direction. A small box flew out of Marc's pocket and into Harry's hand. Marc looked up at him.

"Oh, lookie here. Smoking is a very bad habit. I bet you started it when your first wife walked out on you," he said, taking a cigarette from the box and putting it in his lips. With a snap of his dry fingers, the cigarette gave a glow at it's tip, then Harry inhaled.

"When did you start?" Marc asked, pulling a magical recorder from his pocket.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know the exact day, but shortly after my twenty-first birthday. I'll let you figure out why," he said, exhaling a billowing cloud.

"How did you light it?" Marc asked, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Magic," Harry muttered, smiling. "I know, I know, I shouldn't be able to produce any in this room, but they seemed to have overlooked some things. I should quit, of course. Doesn't that seem to be the craze? Start smoking then learn to quit. It's like a sport or something. People like to brag about quitting, like it's a huge accomplishment. No one made them start," he said, taking another breath of it. "So what's the point?"

Marc opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, shaking his head. "Let's start with the story, shall we Mr. Potter?"

"I was joking about the name thing. You can call me Harry and I'll call you Marc. We should have a good first name basis foundation for this trip, don't you agree?"

"Sure," he answered. "So, it's November third, 2003 and you had just arrived at the Ministry of Magic from a three month absence. Why don't we start there?"

Harry leaned his head back on the wall, his leg still twitching, and blew out more smoke.

****************

November 3, 2003

****************

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper use of Magic office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services," the woman's cool voice said. Harry cocked his head from side to side and yawned as he left the elevator. His mind was humming with too many thoughts; they made him more exhausted than he wanted to be. He strolled into Auror Headquarters as if he'd been out for lunch, and started towards the back of the room for his cubicle.

"Potter!" a tall man said, running to catch up with him.

"Wilson," he replied calmly, not looking at the man. "How are things?"

"Don't start asking me about 'things,'" he said, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "Where have you been?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Working," he answered, as if it was totally obvious.

"Working? You've been gone for three months straight! I hardly hear from you over three months! Simple letters, you send, 'I won't be in today, working in the field!'" he said, in raised tones.

"Hey Tonks," Harry said as he passed a blue haired woman.

"Harry!" she said with a smile. "It's so good to see you back!"

"I love the new hair!" he said with a grin.

"Potter!" Wilson shot back. "Are you listening to me?"

"Vaguely," Harry admitted. "Look, you know what I've been working on, don't you? I can't write you a full report in a letter then send it by owl. Besides, some days there wasn't much to send. It's hard work collecting information about these people, especially considering they're such a small group. They've learned, Wilson, they're not idiots about keeping their secret on goings quiet."

"So why are you gone for months at a time?" he asked.

Harry sat in his swivel chair and rolled to his desk where he started to flip through dozens letters he had received over his absence. 

"I'm looking for clues," he said, stopping at a letter from a publishing house.

Wilson sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you," he said. "You have to check in at least once a week so we know you're alive. For all we know some murderer could be writing these letters you're sending to me."

"I'll be sure to check in next time, okay? Now get off my case, I have work to do," he said, reading the letter.

Wilson mumbled under his breath and left hastily. Harry pulled a drawer out and took a small box from it.

"You should at least try following the rules," Tonks said as she leaned on his entry way. "It can't hurt you at this point."

"I'm not real good about breaking habits," Harry said, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with the snap of his fingers. "Besides, I really hate that guy. I don't know why Arthur couldn't be the Minister. That Wilson has no back bone. He lets me walk all over him like a throw rug."

"You really shouldn't smoke, Harry," she said, turning her lips black with the crinkle of her eyes. "It doesn't suit you. So where did you go for so long? Are you seeing someone?" she asked with a grin.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, going through another letter. "I was looking into the Black Order, just like everyone else in this room."

"Whatever you say, Harry," she said dreamily. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, exhaling a rather large cloud of white smoke.

"Oh(,) nothing really. Listen, you'll find a letter there about a party next week that Wilson wants you to attend. I know," she added, seeing him roll his eyes, "you hate parties, but I do think you should go. It'll be good for you to get out and see some people. Ron and Hermione will be there, as well as their guests. And me, I'm going. Who wouldn't want to go to a party when I'm in attendance?"

He mustered a smile for her, but found it to exhausting to continue. "I'll weasel my way out of it," he said, looking for the letter. "I hate small talk with people I don't care to know. I hate how they look at me and talk at me like I'm some object or something. Ah, here it is," he said after rummaging through twenty letters.

"You could save yourself all this trouble if you let the owl deliver post to you rather than here."

"No." Harry started the letter. "Dear Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah, your attendance is requested....oh blast."

"You have to go," said Tonks, taking a sip of her tea. "You have to. Not even you can squirm out of this. It's Dumbledore's birthday party and we all know how much he admires you, Harry."

Harry tipped some ashes down in a golden ash tray and continued to smoke in silence, staring at the letter. _Your attendance is requested personally by Albus Dumbledore, who wishes you to attend more than any other..._ Sounds pretty desperate... Harry folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope, then searched his stack of letters again.

"Oh, and there's an invitation for a Christmas Eve dinner for Hogwarts Alumni at Hogwarts. It was sent out weeks ago. He wants you there too, I assume."

Harry sighed as he found the thick, white envelope addressed to him. He ripped it open and read, finding that Tonks was quite right. "I don't know about this one," Harry said. "I was hoping to be alone this Christmas."

"You're alone every Christmas," she said carefully. "Don't you want to see all your friends again? The teachers, the atmosphere, the great feast will all be there, Harry. Don't tell me you're going to turn this down so you can be alone again."

"What I do for the holidays is my business," he said coolly. "If I choose to go to this function, you'll be the first to know about it, okay? Now I have lots of work to do, so if you could please leave me alone so I can finish before the next millennium, I would greatly appreciate it."

Tonks frowned at him, looking both angry and offended at his words, but Harry didn't care. He turned his chair around and ripped open more letters. He heard clambering behind him, followed by Tonks' apologies to the other Aurors as she knocked down pictures and trash cans.

It took him the better part of the day to open all of his letters and respond to them. Afterwards, he set himself to report writing and analysis of other reports from his co-workers. It wasn't until five that evening when he finished, but he didn't leave. He lit up another cigarette, said goodbye to Tonks, who still seemed affronted as she left, then did more work.

"Rumor has it," a deep voice sounded from the front of the room. Harry grinned when he heard it. "That some tall, lanky creep has been haunting this office since this morning, with a cloud over his head. Don't know if that's a metaphor for his attitude or the disgusting smoke he billows from that smart mouth of his!" Ron said as he jumped in Harry's entry way. "Oh," he grinned, "it's just Harry."

Harry leapt out of his seat and sucker punched Ron on the shoulder, which he returned. "How have you been?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Bored," Ron replied, taking the cigarette and smashing it with his foot. "You know they won't even let me in here without supervision? I feel like a five year old waiting for his mummy to sign some form."

"It'll pass," Harry said. "I missed you, Ron," Harry said, grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

"Ahhh," Ron said. "Don't get all mushy on me. So where have you been all these months? I've written you tons of letters."

Harry reached down to his desk and unfolded a roll of parchment. Harry read from it: "'Dear Harry, Are you alive? Write me back. Ron.' I have all my letters forwarded here, Ron, you know that. But thanks for the great concern for my health."

"You still haven't answered my question, Harry," said Ron. "Where were you the last three months? Dad tried to find out but he said not even Tonks could find you. So where were you?"

Harry went to pick up his things, then started out of his cubicle.

"Harry," Ron said, following after him.

"I was working. Undercover mostly, and a lot of spy work. I couldn't tell anyone where I was, you should know that by now."

Ron nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Once again I'm the one who knows nothing about anything that happens in this office. I'll bet you were working on the Black Order, weren't you? You don't need to cover it up," he said, noticing Harry's quick glance, "I'm not totally in the dark, but mostly. You know I won't tell anyone about your secrets," he winked.

"They're not solely my secrets, Ron. If they were, you know I would tell you. But yes, I was working on the Black Order."

"Did you find out anything new?"

"Only that for such work we're putting into them, they seem like a rather small group. I guess only a few wizards are involved." He and Ron walked into the elevator and hit the Atrium button.

"What's a few? Ten?"

"Something like that."

"So why all this effort?" Ron asked, leaning his rampant red haired head on one side of the shiny elevator. "Why are you gone for three months learning about them while the rest of the office is doing the same, only staying here?"

Harry shook his head, and ran his shaking hand through his hair. "I guess it's because we've learned our lesson. Everyone starts out small, don't they? It's easier to kill a virus before it multiplies."

Ron smirked and crossed his arms. Harry had the feeling he was humored by the metaphor. "So who's the virus?"

Harry shook his head for the second time. "I dunno. I'm still working on that. But enough about me, what's going on with you?"

"I told you Harry," Ron said, now stuffing his hands in his robe pockets, "I'm bored sick. I've got nothing to do around here, and nothing to do at home. The only thing that's keeping me going is to make fun of Hermione's new boyfriend."

Harry looked up suddenly. "She's got a new one? When did this happen?"

"Two months ago, mate. You should see this guy, Harry. He's really tall and burly, and his hair reminds me of Snape's, because it's down to his shoulders, only blonde. And he's got this stupid laugh, like a cackle or a chuckle, and it's so annoying! And then there's his nose," Ron said, as if the new target was much more fun than the rest of the appearance. "It's really thick! I don't know how he breaths through nostrils that are the size of tree trunks."

"What does he do for a living?" Harry asked, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"He's a Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons," he said, shaking his head in what looked to be a very sad motion. "The Falcons Harry," he said, now burying his face in his hands.

"Would it be any better if he played for the Cannons?"

"Somewhat," Ron snapped back.

The golden gates of the elevator clattered open and they walked out. Harry smiled to himself as Ron muttered under his breath. "Well, I'm heading out."

"Wait, why don't you come to the Burrow for dinner tonight? Fred and George are there, and we'd all love to have you over. Maybe we could convince Hermione to come with her blockhead boyfriend of hers!"

Harry looked into his eyes and at his anxious face.

"Come on, Harry. You know you want to."

"I've been gone a long time, I should really go-"

"Your apartment will be there later tonight," he said grinning. "Bill and Charlie are there as well, not to mention Fleur." His ears got a little red, but Harry didn't mention it to him.

"What about your father?" Harry asked, still gazing into Ron's eyes.

"He doesn't blame you for what happened," Ron responded quickly.

"That's not what I asked," Harry mumbled. He watched Ron grow continually uncomfortable as he stared. "Maybe it's better if I see all of you another time, when your father isn't there."

"He doesn't blame you, Harry," Ron insisted. "He's always like that now. He knew mum since Hogwarts and they married right after. It's hard on him. It's hard on all of us."

He was right about that, Harry thought. Mrs. Weasley had died when Harry was sixteen, working for the Order. He remembered everything about that day; the smell, the shapes of the clouds in the sky, even what socks he had been wearing. It started off as a typical day; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was walking the four of them back to the train after Christmas break when a battle ensued. The Death Eaters were trying to get to Harry, but Mrs. Weasley protected him. She fought hard, harder than he'd seen anyone fight. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny battled with her, but there were too many and they were much too skilled. Mrs. Weasley screamed at them to go on, but they insisted on helping her. But when Harry attempted to cast a spell at them, a jet of green hit Mrs. Weasley in the chest, right before their eyes. For a while none of them moved, even the Death Eaters stopped fighting, as they stared at her lifeless body.

Ginny and Ron reached out for her minutes later, but Harry and Hermione held them back and ran onto the platform. The aftereffect left on Harry was by far the worst. Ginny never said it, but Ron pointed out that his mother was fighting for Harry; that it was his fault. Harry already knew, without Ron smearing his face in it, that he was right. But as the year went on, Ron slowly got over his mother's death and went back to being himself. But he had never apologized for what he'd said.

As for Mr. Weasley, well, he didn't blame Harry for it, but he didn't talk to him either. Mr. Weasley became deathly quiet whenever Harry was around. He would give small benign smiles to him, nod or shake his head to a question Harry would ask, and often leave the room entirely.

"Of course he doesn't," Harry responded. "In any event, I don't really fancy being ignored by him or stared at by the rest of your family as they think 'he's the reason she's gone.' So I'm going to my place and call it a night. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Harry stop," Ron said, pulling him back. "Mum was working for the Order. She knew she was risking her life and she did it willingly. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself, mate. It's all over now, You-know-who is gone for good. He can't hurt you anymore."

Harry wheeled around and glared at him, but didn't defend nor refute Ron's statement. Instead he gave a benign smile, and started on his way. "I'll see you around, Ron." He walked back into the golden elevator and made his way up to the top of the street.

After he clambered out of the red phone booth, he took a few steps down an alley, where a shiny black motorcycle was awaiting him. Harry swung himself on, revved up the engine loudly, and sped off. He hadn't made any adjustments to it, such as the ability to fly, because it suited him just as it was.

The sky looked like a black velvet blanket, splattered with crystal clear diamonds, sparkling millions of miles away. Harry gazed at them as he waited for a traffic light. He could see his breath as he sighed into the breeze, and his gloved hands were starting to numb, gripping the low handle bars of the Harley.

The underground parking lot to his building was dimly lit, but enough so that he could see most of the tenants were here, for all of their cars were parked in the usual spots. There were some Mercedes Benz sedans, a few BMWs, one Ferrari Diablo, and various other models of equal expense. Harry's Harley Davidson Sportster XL 1200 seemed petty in comparison, but he could care less.

He lived in a small penthouse apartment, on the highest floor of his building. It had been a gift from an anonymous donor expressing their thanks for Harry's efforts. He insisted on paying for it, but because he didn't know who to pay, he simply took it as a gift and moved in.

It was, as to be expected, rather vast in size. The two walls which made one corner of the entire building were lined with windows. On a clear night like tonight, Harry could see the flickering lights of London, the flowing traffic beneath him, and the stars.

"I'm home," he said, shutting the door behind him. Instantly the glow of lights ignited, music began to play, and it suddenly became warm. 

He started for his kitchen when he was tackled and nearly knocked over by something small that had hit him round his midriff, taking the wind out of him.

"Harry Potter has come home!" a squeaky voice of a house elf said. "Dobby has been wondering when Harry Potter would come back!"

With great effort, Harry pried the anxious house-elf off his body and set him down.

"How have you been, Dobby?" he asked with a smile.

"Dobby has been wonderful, sir. He has made many socks for himself and Harry Potter."

Harry suddenly noticed Dobby's attire. He was dressed in lurid green golf pants (which were much too big for him) a pink polka dot polo shirt, one white mitten, one leather glove, and a baseball cap.

"Did you?" Harry asked, raising a corner of his mouth. "I'm glad you kept yourself busy. Did anyone drop by while I was away?"

"Yes, sir. Hermione Granger and an old woman with a book. She gave it to Dobby and left. Dobby has put it in Harry Potter's room."

"What did Hermione want?" he asked, uncorking a bottle of wine.

"She said she wanted to see Harry Potter, and- shall Dobby get the door, sir?" he asked. The door suddenly glowed blue, which meant a friend had arrived. Harry slipped the wine back into cabinet under the counter.

"Please," he said, nodding to the elf. 

Dobby barely opened it a crack when a bushy haired woman ran inside. "Harry!" Hermione said. She nearly collided with Dobby as she ran into the apartment towards Harry. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight; her bushy hair obstructed his vision. "Thank God you're safe! Do you know how worried I've been about you? You've been gone for so long and I thought you were hurt. Oh thank goodness you're all right, I missed you so much," she said very quickly into his shoulder.

"I missed you too, Hermione," he said into her ear. "But it sounds like you've been busy while I was away."

She drew back, still clutching his arms, and gave him a small smile. "Ron told you."

"Yes he did," he returned, a full grin playing on his face. "He provided various details of his mangled face to me, and mentioned he played Quidditch as well."

"Mangled face?" Hermione said, bursting into laughter. "Oh only Ron would say that. No, no, no, he's really quite handsome," she said, pulling a bag from her shoulders and rummaging inside. "I have a picture of him....ah here it is."

Harry took the photo and couldn't believe Ron thought him ugly. He certainly was a burly man, but by no means was he hideous. Harry was strongly reminded of the American model Fabio, only with shorter hair which fell just above his shoulders. He had dark brown eyes, tan skin, sandy blonde hair, and a very likeable smile. The photo of course moved, as was custom in the wizarding world, but kept looking back at Hermione, then suspiciously at Harry.

"What's his name?" Harry asked, giving back the photo. She took it, and stroked the face.

"Luke Broadmoor," she said fondly, her cheeks going slightly flushed. "He's fairly new to the team. He's a Chaser."

"Do you want a drink?" he asked, walking to his mini bar. He took out a few sodas and chilled them with the touch of his finger. 

"Sure," she replied, then sat on a stool.

"So(,) another Quidditch player, eh? When do I get to meet this guy?"

"Well, he's off for Christmas in a few weeks. You could meet him then, I suppose, if you'll be around, that is. Where do you go, Harry? I mean, you're away for so long then you just stroll back into our lives as if you'd never left. Where do you go?"

Harry popped open his soda, but left it on the counter. "I can't tell you that, Hermione. If I could I would, I swear it, but too many lives are at stake if I tell anyone."

She shook her head and sighed. "You have so many secrets," she mumbled. "So many."

Harry reached into his pocket and took out a box of cigarettes.

"Why do you smoke? You know it's really bad for your health, even with all the 'safety' charms they put on them. You should really consider quitting."

But he ignored her, popped one into his mouth, and lit it with the snap of his fingers. "It helps me to relax," he said, the cigarette bobbing on his lips. "I'm too anxious and they help me."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Harry raised his eyebrows at her and quickly changed the subject. "So, Luke Broadmoor. Any relation to Kevin or Karl?"

"Father and uncle," she said. "He's the youngest in the family. I met him at a book signing two months ago. He was behind me in line, being very quiet and shy," she said, smiling again.

As he watched her recount her meeting with Luke, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of how she was when they were in school. She had that young glow about her, which he hadn't really noticed at Hogwarts. Indeed, there wasn't much change about Hermione's face, beside the obvious fact that she had aged. 

Her hair was still stubbornly curly and brown. Her eyes were quite dark, but possessed a certain twinkle which made them remarkably bright. She had a straight nose that turned up at the end a little, which Harry always found rather cute. And her cheeks retained a pinkish hue, as if she'd been out in the cold all morning. All in all, she was a pretty girl. Her figure was modest and not near head turning, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. She dressed her personality; a causal skirt and jumper with a purple cloak, and rarely deviated from it.

Harry had seen much more beautiful women, much more elegant, women meant to grace magazine covers and win beauty pageants, but Hermione had a certain warmness about her that the other women did not. Or it could be that he had known her for over a decade, and the familiarity was very comfortable.

"So you like him, then?" he asked, once she'd finished fawning over her latest beau. 

"Yeah," she said, grinning at him. "Wh-what about you? Are you dating anyone while you're away all those months?" she asked, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Nope," he answered, taking a sip.

"Are you being honest?"

"Yeah," he said, one corner of his mouth cocked up. "I haven't dated for a while. Why, are you going to hook me up with someone? I'm not interested."

"No, I just haven't seen you with a girl for... well, years actually. And when I did, you were quite turbulent with them," she said, forcing a giggle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, smile fading.

Hermione frowned and fidgeted in her seat. "Well, you know," she said, not meeting his eyes for the second time.

"No, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me," he muttered, exhaling a rather thick cloud of smoke.

"Harry there's no need to get upset, I just made an observation. When you dated those girls years ago, you just....well....you had so many. I'd never see you with the same one more than twice, that's all. You just went through them so fast. They were all beautiful. I thought you would have taken to at least one of them for a little longer than you did." She watched him carefully. 

Harry didn't seem effected. He leaned up against his counter, brooding over his thoughts, smoking quietly. After three minutes of this, he changed the subject quite dramatically, as if the issue had never been raised. "I thought you said you weren't going to date any more Quidditch players."

Hermione made a choking sound and swept the hair out of her face. "Why won't you talk about it with me? We've been friends for so long..."

"Maybe it's something I don't wish to share. Look, it's getting late, I need to get to bed. I've got a job to go to in the morning."

Hermione looked deeply offended. "What's happened to you?" she asked, scowling. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you treating Ron and I like trash? I know what you did to him tonight, he told me. You completely cut him off and now you're doing it to me. We're your best friends, Harry. You might want to think about treating us with a little more respect."

Harry stuck his cigarette in the ash tray and walked over to her, but she got up and backed away. "No, I'm getting really tired of your attitude. We haven't hurt you, Harry, why are you hurting us?"

"Hermione," he said, shutting his eyes and passing his shaking hand through his hair, "I'm sorry. I'm just really tired."

"You're like this when you're not tired. Why?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "I didn't mean it. I've got too much on my mind right now, I just got back from a long trip, and now you and Ron are cornering me. Just give me space. I only need a few days, but I still need some space. I'm really glad you've found someone you like, and I hope I can meet him soon, but there's just too much right now. Okay?" He gave her a soft smile and reached for her shoulder. "I really don't try to be a miserable bastard," he added.

She passed air through her teeth and dropped her frown. 

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Of course, but you really are harsh on us at times. You should know that we are constantly worried about you. Then you come back and attack us for questioning you about your life, as friends often do."

"There are some things I just can't tell you, no matter how bad I wish to. Please understand that!"

"I do," she mumbled. "You've always kept secrets from us. I suppose it's time for me to admit it and get used to it." She peered back into his eyes and made her lips go thin. "Um, are you going to Dumbledore's party?"

"Yes," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It sounds like a really formal event, doesn't it? I think he would prefer a party with cupcakes and a pinata rather than some black tie event."

"Well good. He really wants you there. So, I'll let you get your grumpy sleep. We should get together for coffee, the three of us, and talk about our lives."

"You are going, right? To the party that is? Tonks said you and Ron were going to make an appearance."

"Yeah, I think so. I'm going to ask Luke if he wants to go. I'll owl you in the morning, okay Harry?"

"Sure thing," he said.

"Goodnight," she whispered, hugging him again, then kissing him on the cheek. "Sleep well."

"Night." He opened the door for her, then watched her leave. 

"Dobby likes Hermione Granger," Dobby said, sitting in Harry's ottoman.

"If anyone else shows up tonight, tell them I'm asleep, which is the truth. Goodnight Dobby."

"Doesn't Harry Potter want dinner?"

"Nah, Harry Potter isn't hungry. See you come morning time." Harry went back to his mini bar, grabbed a bottle of wine, a glass, and headed for his room.

*******

Present

*******

"Hermione Granger works part time at Sparks Publishing and spends most of her free time heading up the Society for Promotion of Elvish Welfare, correct?" Dr. Simon asked.

Harry beamed. "_Spew_. She's been at that for ten years now. Who would have known it would become this huge. Hermione has a good heart. She's always done the right thing. And she's brilliant. Nothing gets by her."

"And Ronald Weasley is an Auror assistant. He has yet to pass the entrance test to enter Auror training, is that right?"

Harry nodded. "He gets too nervous in the practical section of the examination. He's got the heart for it, but he panics. I'm sure he'll make it one day, if he keeps trying."

"They sound deeply concerned about you, Harry."

"They are. But they need to remember that I can take care of myself better than anyone. I've been looking after me my whole life. For some reason they want to hold my hand all the time."

"Let's talk more about the Black Order, Harry. You say they're a small group?"

Harry pulled his head up, dropped some ashes from his cigarette's tip, and brought it to his lips again. "I thought the rules were that I got to control this foray into my mind? The Black Order will be discussed in good time, Marc, you just need to exercise some patience. Actually, I think I'm about done for the day. All this tripping down memory lane has left me quite exhausted. You feel free to drop by tomorrow morning and we can talk about Dumbledore's party."

"I'm more interested in the break from Azkaban, actually," he said.

Harry smirked and blew smoke in his face. "That comes after the party. Trust me on this, Doctor. Everything will be illuminated if you let me unfold this story in its right order. You might just be able to find some of my secrets if you listen carefully," he teased.

Marc stood up abruptly and headed for the exit wall. "Fine. Sleep tight, Harry."

"You want your cigarette's back?" Harry asked. He too stood up but held onto the wall for support.

"No. You go ahead and keep them. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," he said darkly. Harry hobbled over to his bed and sat down, then waved to Marc as he left.

"Exit," Marc said. There was a loud whooshing sound, followed by the disappearance of the white granite bricked wall. Marc stepped through and heard the whoosh close the passage. He took an immediate left and opened a door. 

It lead to a small observation room where a warden sat at a desk reading a book, and a short and very skinny woman stood looking into Harry's room. Harry couldn't see inside here, but there was a special charm put on the wall so anyone could see inside his. The woman didn't look at Marc as he entered, she simply continued to stare.

"What kind of charms are on that room?" he asked the warden.

He put his book down and laughed. "More than we've ever put on a ward. He busted out of several cells so we put him in this maximum security cell. Without anything extra it has a high security charm, an impenetrable charm, and a simple yet effective solidity charm. They added more for him though. You must have noticed he had difficulty standing? Well that would be because they put on this fancy charm which makes him tired and weak; the disabling charm or something. It keeps him from fighting us. There are also several, uh, I don't know what they call them, but grooming charms? They won't let him have a razor just yet, but he shouldn't need one for a while. The charms slow that kind of thing down."

"I see," he said. Just as he had told Harry, with a few more added to it. He walked over to the transparent wall. Harry was laying down now, one leg propped up, the other completely flat. Interestingly enough, he was staring right at Marc.

"He knows we're looking at him," he said, hoping the woman would speak.

"Well, he's no idiot," the warden replied. "Are you due to come back in the morning?"

"Yes. Do me a favor, will you? Record him when he sleeps. His records show that he's prone to plot revealing nightmares. Maybe he'll spill something for us."

"You got it, doc."

Marc shot one more glance at the mystery woman then departed.

Harry looked away from the wall on his left and sat the box of cigarettes on his bedside table. He then sat up, leaning his back on the wall. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head. For some reason it made him feel much more comfortable. "Dim the lights," he muttered.

Instantly it became dark. He sighed and shut his eyes, listening to the silence which engulfed him in contemplation.

He was so relaxed, _probably because of these ridiculous charms they've placed on this cube_, he thought, that he was just ready to nod off when something got his heart racing faster than it had in quite some time.

A whisper, a sinister whisper of a woman floated across the room. Harry pulled his head up and opened his eyes; his pupils dilated so voluminously that his irises only had the thin outline of green. The whisper left as quickly as it had come. Now the only thing he could hear was a thumping against his chest.

"Scared?" she whispered again. Harry jumped and looked wildly around the room.

"I am over here," she said in his left ear. Harry whipped his neck around, but there was no one there. Then he looked to his right, but it was only air. Then he heard her laughing, so silently and evilly that goose bumps spread all over his body. "No," she whispered again, this time so clearly he swore she was almost inside his head, "I am in here..."


	2. Green Sparks of Malice

Chapter Two: Green Sparks of Malice  
  


Harry felt himself beginning to shiver and his breaths became shorter. He backed up to the wall and stared wildly around the dark room. His hands were clenching his sheets and his jaw started to quiver.

"My, we are scared," she said, just above a whisper.

"Go away," he responded.

"I think not."

"Leave me alone," Harry mumbled weakly, tugging at his sheets.

She sniggered at him. "Alone? You do not wish to be alone, do you?"

"Yes," he murmured. He pulled his covers, got underneath them, and brought them over his head. Harry screwed his eyes up tight and buried his head in the pillow.

"You cannot hide from me. I am not your uncle; bits of fabric will not make me vanish, nor will your feign of sleep."

Harry covered his ears and shook his head. "Please leave me alone," he whimpered.

"No, I cannot do that," she said lightly.

"Why not?" he asked.

"You know why. You know what it is I ask of you. Listen, Harry..." she said. "Do you hear that?"

The only thing Harry heard was a thumping in his ears, other than that, nothing.

"It is the sound of loneliness, the sound of despair. I can make it go away if you do as I ask."

Harry pressed harder against his ears, so that the ear piece of his glasses cut into his skin, but she didn't stop talking. "I told you this would happen," she whispered. "I told you they would do this."

"You did this!" he whined. "You did all of this!"

"No, Harry, you did. Need I remind you of our last meeting? Of our conversation? Of my generous offer to you? I know why you are frightened, I know what you fear, and I know what you think. You cannot win this battle, Harry. I have already won."

"No," he said sternly.

"Yes I have. They are watching you right now. They see you having a conversation with yourself. They are diagnosing you. They will have you committed for life, in which case I will still win!"

"Go away you sick bitch!" he screamed. He leapt off his bed, hit the floor, and tried to stand up, but he was too weak and tired. He collapsed on his back and struggled against his entangled sheets.

She was laughing at him again. He could hear her laughter echoing in his mind, getting louder and louder; a horrible, malignant laugh that sent a cold chill up his spine. "Go away!" he yelled. "Go away!" He turned over on his stomach and tried moving forward on his elbows.

Then there was a whoosh from behind him and a scrambling of four feet. Harry crawled faster. He didn't even realize that he was hyperventilating when he felt someone put their knee in his back, taking him down to the floor.

"Get off of me!" he said, his cheek on the tile. He tried pushing himself off the floor, but whoever was crushing him down was too heavy and strong.

"Relax, Harry, everything's going to be fine," one of the nurses said. "Just relax."

"Get off," he continued between his shallow breaths. "Leave me alone." But just then, the nurse holding him down grabbed his wrists and pushed. "No!" he cried, thrashing the best he could against them. "No, don't!"

"Shhh," the female nurse said. "Calm down."

He gave one more kick when he felt a sharp prick in his shoulder. "I'm not crazy," he mumbled. "I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not cra-" he let out a long breath, his fingers unclenched, and he stopped shaking. The bedpost that he could see became very blurry as he stared at it. The nurses voices sounded distant and foggy. He tired to speak but no sound would escape his moving lips. The pounding in his ears slowed and his breathing became deep. He didn't want to close his eyes, but they seemed to be working independently from his brain. His lids felt like anvils and before he could try to stop them, they shut.  
  


Marc walked into the observation room the next morning with a cup of coffee in one hand and a Danish doughnut in the other. "How did he sleep last night?" he asked the warden as he pointed into Harry's room.

"Like a baby once the nurses tackled him down and injected him with a sleeping serum." Marc turned to face him. 

"Excuse me? Why did they do that?" He set his coffee and doughnut on a table and rested his hands on his hips.

"Well, you asked me to record him and I did. I'll play it back for you." The warden took a wand, waved it at the observation window and a blue screen took its place, followed shortly by the recording of the previous night. Marc watched the entire reel allowing his coffee to sit unattended. The steam disappeared, the moisture inside the cup slipped into the coffee which was soon cold.

Marc stopped the recording and sat down at the table.

"Well?" the warden said. "What do think is wrong with him?"

Marc shook his head and opened a thick binder which sat before him. "Sounds to me like he's delusional, or it could be schizophrenia of some type. I have to talk to him some more. What happened to the mystery woman who was here last night?"

"She left after we gave him a dose."

"Who was she?"

The warden shrugged. "Search me. They just told me to let her watch if she wanted to. She didn't show me any credentials, didn't even talk to me. Probably some bureaucrat."

"Maybe," he said, looking back to his binder. "Let me know if she comes back, will you?"

"Sure thing," he said.

"Is he awake yet?" Marc asked.

The warden walked over to the window. "Nope."

"How much potion did they give him?" he asked incredulously, now standing up and looking in for himself.

"I think it was about 20ccs," he answered.

Marc scoffed, turned on his heel, walked out of the door, and instructed the witch to let him in. Once inside he strolled over to Harry's bedside and looked down on him.

Harry was out like a light. He was sleeping quite deeply; his chest rose and fell in a very healthy pattern. His cheeks were taking on more color, which he thought a good thing, so he decided to let him doze.

He walked out of the room, told the warden to leave Harry alone while he was gone, then he himself left.  
  


The bright sun left shadows on Marc's chiseled face. The wind swept his sandy blonde hair and the blue birds greeted him with song. He walked to his white car, unlocked the door, and shut himself in. He was never good with Apparation; he preferred the Muggle ways of transportation. He sat there for a while pondering his destination, debating who he should talk to first. He pushed the clutch, stuck his key in the ignition, and started the car. He headed for the Leaky Cauldron.

Sparks Publishing was located across the street from the Daily Prophet in Diagon Alley. It was a tall grey building with old fashion architecture. Once inside, Marc asked to see Miss Granger and was then escorted to her office on the third floor. It was a large building on the inside. Plenty of windows flanked the golden walls. Editors worked away in the main room, while the higher officials had offices and cubicles.

"Wait here please," her secretary said. She ducked into Hermione's office, mumbled something, and told him to enter.

"Doctor Simon," Hermione said, getting out of her high backed chair and making her way towards him. "It's nice to meet you," she beamed, shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Much better, actually. Can I offer you a drink?"

"No thanks. Do you like Publishing?"

"Yes. It gives me time to work on my group. Harry told me I was wasting my talents by not engaging in more meaningful work, but I humbly disagree. Sit down, please," she said, signaling to a chair. She sat down in hers and grabbed her cup of coffee. "How is he?" she asked tenderly.

Marc grimaced and leaned forward. "I'm not really sure. I talked to him for a few hours yesterday and I'm going back today. I wanted to get some different angles on him. He seems to me, and again I've only known him for a day so it's just an observation, but he seems rather cynical. Maybe that's not the right word. He doesn't seem like he's a happy man."

Hermione didn't make a face of disagreement. She looked down into her mug then back to Marc. "Why should he be right now? He's been locked up for over a week and none of us are allowed to see him."

"Miss Granger, what I saw of him suggested that he was not a happy man outside the hospital either. I know he's your best friend, but bear in mind his state."

"His state?" she said. "What do you mean 'his state'? Look, I don't think he's insane. You have no idea what it's like to be him. What if he's telling the truth? Have you considered that?"

"He put you in the hospital."

"He didn't mean to hurt me," she said. "I believe him."

"You didn't even hear what he said, how could you know?" he asked calmly.

"Ron filled me in. Look, I think he's been through too much and this really put him over the edge. You have no idea, you really don't, about how Harry works."

"I know I don't but I'm trying. Can you tell me what Harry was like before the incident at Hogwarts?"

She considered him for a moment, then shook her head. "He's a tough one to explain. He's changed a lot since I first met him. When I think about the Harry I met and the Harry I know it's as if there are two different people. When I met him he was good, benevolent easy to be around. Now..." she said, her eyes watering. "Well, he has certainly changed. After he saw Cedric die he became short tempered, bad mannered, and was even a bit rude to Ron and me. Then Sirius was killed and everything became worse. I think he really loved him and looked up to him. He always treated Sirius with a lot of respect. Then Harry lost him too." She paused and took a sip from her mug. "He became distant after that, with Ron and me. He didn't do it right away but he slowly put a lot space between us. And then," she said, motioning her head down, "Mrs. Weasley died. So his loss number weighed in around four and he was only sixteen. I suppose that was the one thing about him that was always consistent, from when he was eleven to now."

"What's that?" Marc asked.

"He was never whole. Dumbledore agrees with me. I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time, but there was something missing to Harry. He didn't have someone of his own, never someone he could call his. Sirius was it and Harry only knew him for about two years." She sighed and took another swig. "But I don't want to give you the wrong impression of him. Harry may not seem like it, but he still has a good heart. He does what is right. He fights evil so the rest of us can sleep at night. He's been doing it for most of his life and look how the world repays him."

"But he's not kindhearted, isn't that right?"

"No, it's not. When I was taking care of him a few months ago he was vulnerable and kind to a fault. He has his moments when the young, happy Quidditch Seeker shines through. But then there are times, when he's around large groups of people especially, he's that street wise, short tempered, smart mouthed... well, you've met him."

"Why are you still friends with him then," he asked, "if he's that tough to be around?"

"I didn't say that at all. Harry has a hard life, Doctor, a really hard life. I'd like to see you walk in his shoes for a day. He's never had it easy, not ever. He's my best friend in the world. He treats me better than anyone ever has, even now. When he's rested and back home he can be so wonderful. You can't base Harry on what you've seen of him. A measly three hours is what you're going on?"

Marc stared at her, thinking of all she had said, wrought with contradictions. Was Harry as complex as she portrayed? Or was he a simple message simply encoded? Whatever he was, it didn't bring him, Marc, closer to the problem.   
  


Harry stirred. He didn't know whether he could open his eyes or if would be a wise decision. His head felt detached from his body and swimming in a hot liquid of some sort. His entire body was numb and there was a funny taste in his dry mouth. He didn't feel much like moving. It felt like he was flat on his back, raised only at the head because of his limp pillow.

He opened his eyes, but they moved slowly. The white ceiling of his room looked quite blurry, seemingly moving in space. He turned his head to his left to see his glasses on the table. His arm didn't obey his non verbal command to retrieve them.

The passage to his room suddenly opened. From what he could tell it was a woman who came in. She was carrying a tray.

"Good morning Harry," she said sweetly. He immediately recognized her voice; she was the one who stuck him.

"Go to hell," is what he planned on saying, but it came out rather groggily so it sounded like "Goth ba lell." She seemed to understand him, for she frowned. Harry felt a little better once he saw that.

"Are you hungry? You haven't touched a thing since you came here. The potion will wear off much faster if it can metabolize," she explained.

If only he had his wits about him, he could have really slammed her with harsh repartee. But, being in no state to fight her, he curled up his nose instead. She then picked up something on a spoon and moved it towards his mouth. He tried lifting up one of his arms to stop her, but they were as heavy as steel beams. He sealed his mouth shut, closed his eyes, and turned his head away.

"Oh stop being a big baby," she said. She grabbed his chin and made him face her. "Now open up."

This was not happening. How could he let her do this to him? He'd killed Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard in the world, for crying out loud. He certainly wasn't going to let this nurse man handle him and tell him what to do. He tried turning his head again, but the potion was still lurking around in his veins, making him very weak.

"You need to eat. It's part of being alive. Now open up."

Harry opened his eyes and did his best to glare at her.

"Don't give me that face. I'll get help if I have too, you know. You need to eat something or you'll starve to death."

He knew she was lying. Still, he was hungry and eating would be good. But giving in to her demands would mean sacrificing his dignity, and he certainly wasn't going to do that. Not to mention he would be letting her win, therefore giving her satisfaction; that wasn't an option either. So he continued to glare, his stomach grumbling.

"You're stubborn," she said, clenching onto his cheeks. "Do you know that?"

He nodded and couldn't stifle a smile. She sighed, smirked a little, and set the spoon down. "I want this gone when I come back, do you understand me?" she said, pointing to the tray.

"Mmm hmmm," he said, keeping his lips sealed. He didn't know how she expected him to reach it due to his immobile hands, but maybe that's why she tried to force feed him...

"Fine," she huffed, then left. 

She could have at least given him his glasses, but no, she had to throw a fit and leave. He tried moving his arms again, but they were still too heavy. The numbness was starting to wear down. He could move his legs a little and wiggle his fingers, but not much else.

And then the passage opened again. Harry was tiring of that stupid whooshing sound each time some idiot decided to come and gawk at him. What was so wrong with doors anyway? Why did it have to make that sound?

"Good morning Harry." _Why, if it isn't Doctor Clueless_, Harry thought. Didn't he deserve some veteran in psychology? Why did he get stuck with this bozo?

Harry groaned in response.

Marc walked over to his bedside table, picked up his glasses, and slipped them on Harry's face. "Is that better?" he asked. He walked to the far corner and brought the chair back over to where Harry was, then sat down. "You had a rough night, didn't you?"

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to answer. "Must've been tough to figure that out," he drawled. "S'pose you had your goons watch me all night." He tried to sit up but he was still stiff. Marc pointed to the bed posts and mumbled something under his breath. Harry suddenly found the bed lifting him to a sitting position. He felt like he might be sick and fall face forward onto his knees. "Geez, what is this they have me on?"

"It's a sleeping serum mixed with the Drought of Peace. Apparently you got a little anxious last night. You were hearing voices?"

"A sleeping serum _and _the Drought of Peace? It's a wonder I'm still alive."

"Harry, did you hear voices last night?" he pressed on.

"They came in last night and tackled me to the floor, like I was some animal. I would like a little more respect from the staff here. I'm not a criminal you know."

"Harry?" he said again.

"I did not hear voices," Harry said truthfully. He hadn't heard voices, but a voice.

"Then who were you talking too?" Marc asked.

"The tooth fairy if you must know. She's never come to me before, I thought she was repaying me for all the lost teeth I'd put under my pillow."

"You're lying. That wasn't part of the deal. You said you would be truthful when I posed a question to you."

"Only to questions I want to answer. I thought you would have gotten the hint from my dodging the question. This process would go much easier if you grew a decent brain."

"Or if you could cut the sarcasm and answer me straight."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head but smiling. "See, if you had some sense you would understand my sarcasm. But that's beside the point. Yesterday you were all concerned about my life story, which I decided would become a best seller, and you wanted to talk about the break from Azkaban. Now you want to ask me about voices?"

"Who was it you were talking to?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "There you go again. If you only had a brain. The truth, Marcus, is that I've already told you who the voice belongs to. Go poke around in your file on me and find out for yourself. Now, when will this damn potion ware off?"

"Probably in a few hours. I'm sure if it could metabolize-"

"Yeah, well that's all well and good, but I can't reach anything because my arms are dead weight. See the dilemma?"

Marc smirked, pulled his voice recorder out of his robe pocket and turned it on. "Dumbledore's party, Harry. Tell me about it."

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and collected his thoughts.

****************

November 11, 2003

****************

Harry walked into a beautifully decorated hall, glowing with a golden light, emitted from dozens of great chandeliers hanging from a tall ceiling. The ceiling itself was painted Renaissance style, depicting great battles from history. White pillars held the hall together, which rested on a shiny marble floor, littered with at least one hundred people, all dressed in fancy robes.

There was an orchestra playing classical music that filled the room with magic. Multicolored fairies were flying around enjoying the attention they were receiving from various onlookers. Harry cast around the room for a familiar face, or a place to drop off his gift when someone pushed him. He wheeled around to find Fred and George grinning at him.

"Well look who showed up to the party," George said.

"Didn't think you'd make it," said Fred.

"We figured you would be out saving the world," said George.

"Or at least kicking some deserving schmuck around."

"But we've digressed from the real issue."

"It's bloody good to see you Harry!"

He grinned and gave each of them a manly back-slapping hug. "How have you two been doing?"

"Ah well, nothing totally interesting," George said.

"Just the usual," said Fred.

"And business?" he asked, giving them a week.

"Oh, you haven't heard then," said George, looking mildly disappointed.

"If you think I'm going to fall for your jokes, you've got another thing coming," Harry replied. 

"It's like I always said, George," Fred said. "Harry's like family."

"You know Ron's here. He brought a girl with him! Can you believe it? An actual female with two legs, two arms- "

"- a complete face that functions-"

"- a face that lacks most deformities- "

"- and going against popular opinions, she actually seems to like him."

"Alas, I thought the world would always make sense."

"Where is she?" Harry asked.

"Probably scanning the room for better looking gents, if you're asking me," Fred said.

"Like Hermione's new dish. You know, Harry, Fred and I were betting she would have picked you to be her life long love."

"Bill and Charlie bet against us and said she'd go with Ron."

"So we still have time to win."

"That is if you're up for it."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, guys. Listen, tell me where to drop off the gift and then lead me to your main gathering."

"Big long table that says 'Gift Depository,'" Fred explained slowly, pointing to the table.

Responding slowly back, Harry said, "Thank you."

"Our lot is way over there in the corner," George told him, motioning to a general area. The hall was elliptical, so there were no corners. 

"Listen for laughter and Ron crying when his date leaves with Broadmoor."

Harry shook his head at them, still grinning, and went to deposit his gift. There were hundreds of presents; large ones that looked to be very expensive, volumes of books, rare magical items with silver bows attached, and many cards. Harry put his small packaged down, shaking his head at the others. Then, walking around the circumference of the Hall, he found the Weasley convention. There were Fred and George, demonstrating what must be a deadly sweet to a child; Charlie was discussing a new book with Hermione, who was dressed in a lovely gown of midnight blue; Bill was enchanted by his lovely companion, Fleur, who was now his betrothed; Ron was talking to a tall good looking man Harry assumed to be Luke Broadmoor, and also an extremely attractive woman whom Harry had known before. He made an about face before she saw him, then walked away.

If it was Dumbledore's birthday celebration, then where was he? He was a tall man with a gleaming white beard and hair, yet the only people Harry saw were boring witches and wizards all engaged in mindless chatter.

He started to feel himself get a headache as he wandered through the crowd, keeping his head low as not to be noticed. Maybe Dumbledore had not arrived? It was fairly early. Perhaps he wouldn't show for another hour or two.

"Harry!" a woman's voice said. He turned to face her and beheld an attractive girl of about his age, with long red hair and a warm bubbly smile.

"Hey Ginny. How goes it?"

"Fine I guess. I'm looking for my boyfriend, actually. You know, our group is over there," she said, pointing to the corresponding location.

"I know. I was just looking for the Professor. And well, there's sort of.... you see that girl Ron's with.... she's sort of my, well it's complicated really. I don't want to.... please tell me you know where I'm going with this," he said to her.

"You dated her?" she asked, looking mildly entertained yet conflicted.

"Sort of. It was never formalized, but she _might_ be upset with me. So I was thinking I would avoid that inevitable difficulty, you know?"

Ginny laughed. "I totally understand you. I've been put in that exact circumstance. I'm more like you, with dating that is. I like to browse a lot."

"Hermione capped on me the other day because of that. She just doesn't understand the concept of dating."

"People like us need to look around and explore the possibilities," Ginny said.

"That's exactly right. Dating is like shopping for shoes," Harry grinned.

"You have to try a bunch on to really know which pair is best," she explained.

"Too true."

"But unfortunately you'll have to face Jennifer. What happened between you and her?"

"It was years ago, but I sort of talked to other women. She, by the way, was engaged in countless conversations with other young men, but I am the evil one for doing the same. I really don't get you women and your double standards."

"Well it happens. I have to be honest with you, Harry. I'm looking forward to the entertainment this conflict will bring me."

Harry offered her his arm as he made his way over to the group. "You're a sick human being with a completely normal personality and sense of humor," he said.

Ginny laughed, laced her arm through his, and started over to Weasley corner.

The conversation pairs had gone through very little change. When Harry stepped into the group, however, everyone ceased their babble and looked to him. Bill and Charlie greeted him warmly, Fleur kissed both his cheeks, Fred and George made countless jokes about him, Hermione hugged him, and Ron shook his hand fervently. Hermione was the first to introduce guests.

"Harry this is Luke Broadmoor. Luke this is my best friend Harry Potter," she said. Luke looked much taller than Harry had expected him to be, but perhaps it was his bulk that gave him his massive appearance. 

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking his dark skinned hand. "Hermione told me all about your first romantic encounter."

Luke grinned. Harry suddenly felt very ugly. "And it's nice to meet you, Harry. Hermione talks about you incessantly."

"She must be bored stiff then. You're not doing your job," he said with a wink. Luke laughed.

"Harry!" Hermione said, slapping his arm; she didn't appear angry.

"And this," Ron said, bringing his date. Harry shifted uncomfortably as they approached, "is Jennifer Williams. Jen, this is Harry."

Having never done this before, Harry gave a sideways glance to Ginny, who nudged her head at him. He was going to explain, but Jennifer beat him to it.

"We've already met," she said, glaring at Harry.

"Y-You have?" Ron asked, his ears turning red.

"Years ago," Harry said to her.

All the others, for some very strange reason, stopped talking to each other and honed in on the three of them.

"How did you meet?" Ron asked both of them.

"We met at a bar in London, remember Harry?"

"Yes," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes I remember. We met in 2001, it's now reaching the end of 2003. Perhaps we could lay our difficulties aside, letting bygones be bygones."

"We dated for a few weeks," she told Ron. "He asked me to go to a party in October for new Aurors, which included him. But I saw him talking to another woman."

"That isn't true," he said through his gritted teeth.

"Oh yes it is. I was there."

"Well then you know you left with some other guy and did who knows what with him."

"What are you accusing me of?" she asked.

"Not too bright are you?" he said to her.

She looked back at Ron with an expression of surprise. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

"I don't know," he said quickly. She whipped her head back around to scowl at Harry.

"For your information," she said in a low whisper, "it's a tactic I use to make people jealous. You didn't even give me a second look when I left with that man."

"Excuse me if I can't comprehend your crude, twisted ways. You see, when I see women do that, I think they're on a job."

Jennifer drew back and slapped him. Hermione and Ginny went to converge on her, but she pushed her way through the gaggle and strode across the hall. Hermione touched Harry's cheek where a red hand mark now resided. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've been hit much worse."

"You called her a prostitute," Ron said, looking revolted at the very site of Harry. "How could you do that?"

"You deserve much better than her. She's probably crying in some corner looking for a rich guy to pick her up. She's a player, Ron. She played me years ago and now she's looking to play you. It's a game to her. Go on. Follow her at a distance and see what she does."

Ron didn't move. He did, however, ease up on his glare.

"I mean it, Ron. You can get much better than the likes of her. She's attractive but not worth it. I would never lie to you." The tension certainly wasn't helping the throbbing of his head. He looked around the hall for a balcony and when his eyes locked onto one, he left his gang of friends for it faster than if he'd spotted the snitch.

It was a very chilly evening, so there was hardly anyone out here. Each star stood out against the veil of darkness like a diamond. He pulled a cigarette out of the box in his pocket and lit it up, sighing with relief with his first breath of it.

He scanned the sky for certain constellations, remembering certain events with each star. He stared at the brightest for a long while, pondering its sparkle, wondering if there was anything to name. He brought his head down to look at the street when the voice of a friendly old man greeted his ears.

"A silver sickle for your thoughts?" he asked.

Harry smiled before he turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing before him. He looked the same as he always did; a shiny white beard and long hair, atop a wise and smiling face. His blue eyes twinkled with adoration behind his half moon spectacles, which sat comfortable on his crooked nose.

"You'll have to pay much more than that, I'm afraid," Harry said to him.

Dumbledore reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder and grinning he said, "Well then, I suppose we'll have to drone on about the weather, as a sickle is all I have in my pocket." He pulled himself towards Harry and gave him a hug that he might bequeath to a favorite grandson. "I'm so glad you came."

"I thought the party would be slightly different," Harry said, a smirk playing about his lips. "I was sure you'd have hundreds of cupcakes dancing to jazz music or something. This just isn't you." 

"I did not plan this. Cupcakes sound much more appealing. I'm expecting quite a few more books and silver instruments that I don't need piled on my table. But you're here and that's what I wanted most. Tell me, Harry, what are you adventures like now?"

Harry sighed, leaned against the banister, and looked into his face. "Lonely," he answered truthfully. "I keep too many things to myself, Professor. I can't tell anyone anything without serious repercussions, but I want to tell them. It would be simpler if everything was out in the open."

"Ah. A hero's burden," he sighed. "Well, I hope there is a time when you can reveal what rests inside your head."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head at him. "There won't. Not for me." Harry stared into his eyes. "So how old are you now?" he asked.

Dumbledore chuckled and let Harry drop the last subject. "Too old to think I can keep up with someone so young," he said, leading Harry back into the hall. "I should very much like to move this party along so we can all get to the dancing. How long do you think it would take for them to realize I have arrived?"

"You just need the right person to make the announcement to everyone. And I think I know who would find no greater joy in it. Excuse me for a second," he said, and made his way over to Fred and George. "Hey guys. Do me a favor, would you?"

"What is your wish?"

"Dumbledore's here. Spread the word," Harry told them.

Fred and George exchanged joyous glances then went separate ways. Harry winked to Dumbledore, who now stood in the balcony's doorway.

Dumbledore was announced mere seconds later. He walked to the platform and smiled at people as he passed.

"Thank you for coming," he said to the crowd. "It is such a pleasure knowing that I have so many friends and admirers. I am not one to give long speeches, as you have probably already tuned me out of your busy ears, but I would like to say one thing. I am old. Treat me well. Thank you." He made his way down into the applauding crowd. 

The evening seemed to be an enjoyable affair. Couples danced the night away; some more exuberantly than others. Fred and George used the time to sell a few new products. Harry soon realized this when some of the guests hair suddenly burst in to flames of green. No one looked in pain, but quite pleased with the results. 

Ginny found her boyfriend. He was a tall man with a dark complexion, black hair and blue eyes. Several women craned their necks to get a better look at him, causing Ginny to grin to herself. She looked elated as she danced with him. 

Hermione and Luke were also dancing, but not very well. Luke looked as though he wanted Hermione to lead and Hermione appeared to expect Luke to lead. After attempting this venture, they laughed at themselves. Bill and Fleur, however, danced wonderfully. Harry noticed Ron arguing with Jennifer. He wondered why he was even bothering with her.

"Avoiding the crowd?" Charlie asked him. Harry had been standing on a stairwell, looking down into the hall. He was quite content with merely watching all of them.

"You could say that. Sometimes it's more fun to watch," Harry answered.

"That's true. What do you think about Hermione's boyfriend?"

"He seems like a nice guy."

"He's a little on the dull side if you ask me," Charlie responded. "I thought being a Chaser would make him more... I don't know, lively. He's too quiet and his sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired."

"Well, if Hermione likes him then that's good enough for me." He was just going to ask Charlie about how his dragon business was going, when Minister Wilson spotted Harry and stormed him.

"There you are!" he said, his mustache flickering as he spoke.

"I _know_ where I am," Harry said under his breath so only Charlie could hear. "How are you Minister?"

"Busy. I need you to accompany me tomorrow for the monthly inspection of Azkaban."

Harry gave him a questioning look. "Why me?"

"Azkaban is no longer controlled by dementors."

"Yes, I know that. So why do I have to go?" he asked.

"Some of the prisoners may attempt to attack me. It's happened before," he said hurriedly. "So I need an Auror to accompany me. It's you're turn, Potter, plain and simple."

"What if I'm busy tomorrow?" Harry asked. He wasn't even scheduled to consult his navel, but he always found a sick pleasure in annoying the Minister.

"Well," Wilson said, scratching his head, "that could be a problem. Yes, could you perhaps move your thing in the morning to the afternoon?"

"Could be tough," Harry said.

"Why don't you try?" he asked.

"Fine. I'll try."

He nodded and left. Charlie burst out laughing, grabbing onto Harry's shoulder for support. "What a joke," he said.

"You can't tell me they couldn't find a more competent wizard than that," Harry said. "The Minister of Magic is like the Prime Minister. Certainly a powerful wizard would want that job."

"A powerful wizard doesn't need a powerful position to gain something he already has."

Harry smiled. "A very wise observation, Charles."

Charlie chuckled. "Yes, I am quite proud of that one." Once they mulled over dragons, the latest Quidditch standings, and Charlie's brothers, someone in the immense crowd suggested that Dumbledore open his gifts. Looking at the mammoth pile of presents on the table, Harry sat himself down on a stair.

Ron came storming up them, glaring at Harry. "Why are women so difficult to understand?" he mumbled to himself. "Why are they so difficult sometimes? Why can't they just say what's on their mind?"

"Because then they wouldn't be women. Sit down," Harry said, patting the spot beside him. "Glad you listened to me."

"She's high maintenance, that one," Ron said.

"Never go for looks alone, little brother."

"Tell that to Bill. No wait, tell that to Hermione. You smell like smoke, Harry," he said, turning to face the crowd.

"Funny how that works, isn't it? What's wrong with Hermione's choice? He seems decent," Harry said.

Charlie leaned over to whisper loudly into Harry's ear. "It's because he's not Ron." Harry grinned.

"Shut up," Ron said to him. "Maybe we should watch Dumbledore open his presents."

"Boring," Charlie said. "He's got to be in his 160s by now. He's opened presents at least 158 times. It's got to get boring."

"I'm already bored," Ron said. "Everyone else is having a good time with their girlfriends, or in Hermione and Ginny's case, boyfriends. Dumbledore is opening.... something rather expensive from the looks of it, and I'm sitting here with Itchy and Smokey."

"Itchy?" Charlie said. But Harry wasn't listening. He stood up and watched Dumbledore pick up the small package that Harry had brought. Harry walked down the stairs and into the chattering crowd so he could get a better look at Dumbledore's face. Ron and Charlie followed behind him.

The professor sat down in the high backed chair with Harry's gift and unwrapped the package with great care. Then he came to the box itself. It was a thick cardboard, only silver and reflective. He could see his wavy representation as he went to open this. Now the room became very quiet as they watched Dumbledore enraptured by this very small gift. He raised the upper portion of the box slowly, set it down on the table, and moved the tissue paper to either side of the package. Then he froze.

Inside the box was six pair of thick, woolen socks. Each pair was a different color. He put a finger to them and the other hand to his mouth. His moist eyes took in each of them and looked to the crowd.

Most people were confused and even more were amused by the present. One guest said loudly, "What kind of person gives Dumbledore socks?" Dumbledore didn't care. 

Harry stood a good twenty five feet from him, but Dumbledore laid eyes on him all the same. Harry winked at him then smiled every so subtlety. 

"Socks," he said, barely audible.

Harry nodded. It was a special thing between the two of them; something no one else could figure out. Harry didn't explain it to Ron or Hermione, nor did Dumbledore clear it up when questions arose. They kept it secret.

The party raged on further into the night and the wee hours of the morning. Harry took several trips to his balcony for a smoke, returning only when it was no longer safe to hold the mini torch to his lips. His headache didn't diminish, his anxiety didn't ebb. At half past one, Hermione made Harry dance with her, ("Honestly, Harry, it's a party. Have some fun!") She led. At two, Luke made to take her home. Harry voiced his agreement to turn in for the night and was walking to Dumbledore to bid him a goodnight when a cold shiver ran down his spine. Goose bumps surfaced all over him, and the hairs on the back of his neck perked.

He looked around at the diminishing crowd for a source or explanation of his reaction, but everyone appeared normal. They were tired, full, and happy, but none of them were menacing or fearful. His head seemed to throb more as he walked toward Dumbledore, but he tried to ignore it. He usually had migraines around large groups of people.

"Socks," Dumbledore said, shaking Harry's hand.

"Socks," Harry replied. 

"Thank you," he said, pulling him in for another hug. "I only wish I could get what you wanted so badly," he said in his ear.

Harry shut his eyes and whispered back, "Socks are much easier to come by, Professor. Goodnight and Happy Birthday."

******

Present

******

Marc shook his head. "I don't get it either. What's the big deal about socks?"

Harry, whose arms were now fully functional, though still prickling with numbness, was helping himself to some tapioca pudding.

"I thought you people were supposed to be good at listening," he said, shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth. A look of great pleasure came over his face as he ate it. "And I was never a big fan of this stuff," he said.

"So what was the deal?" 

"I told you, it's between me and him. Besides, I thought you didn't care about the party. Weren't you ready to hear all about Azkaban?" 

"Yes, but socks?"

Harry smiled a kind of smile which showed his relish of keeping something secret. He didn't talk about the socks ever again. 

"The next morning I went to Azkaban with Minister Wilson. Since the second war, well, before that even, dementors were no longer in control of the prison for their obvious ties to Voldemort. In their place were highly trained wizards, capable of taking down most dark wizards, but certainly not all. They spent years learning how to do their job and it pays off. The Azkaban guards get more money than I do. The government decided to pay them a great amount of gold to keep them on our side.

"So anyway, it was a fairly routine procedure and no prisoner attempted to attack the Minister. The inspection was complete in two hours, and that's fast by Ministry standards.

"All of the prisoners were contained, controlled, and subdued as they were to be. The security charms were all in place, much like the ones in this room, and all disabling charms were working to their fullest. Everything was fine."

"But there was an escape, so something had to have been overlooked," Marc said, watching Harry's face.

"I guess this is where I have to release classified information to you. We do have a confidentiality agreement, right?" Harry asked. "That's how Muggles do it. You can't repeat anything I say to anyone?"

Marc hesitated.

"None of what I am going to tell you has been released to the public, for their own good. It's better that they not know the whole truth. If you want this story to continue, I would advise you to," he looked to the wall to his left, "make it so the wardens and whoever else is in there can't hear any of it."

Harry raised his eyebrows at him then continued on with his breakfast. Marc stood up and walked to the wall. "Exit," he said. The section vanished and he went into the observation room. There were two wardens, different from the one early this morning, and the short, thin Indian woman, who had watched yesterday, watching Harry. "Turn it off," he said, pointing to the window.

"Why?" one of the wardens asked.

"Because I am the one who's in charge. I said turn it off!"

Rolling his eyes and seeming to lose control of his spine, the warden waved his wand at the wall and it became solid.

"The audio as well," Marc added. The warden looked to the woman for some kind of assistance, but she glared at him and nodded. With another flick of his wand, the audio feed was shut down. "Thank you," he said, but he didn't sound gracious. He walked back into Harry's room. 

Harry was spreading jelly on his toast now, looking quite casual and comfortable; a much different persona from the previous evening. The color was coming back to his cheeks and the dramatic lines formed by his skin being pulled over his bones were abating.

"Done," Marc said in reference to the observation room.

"Excellent. Have a seat," he said informally, looking to the chair to his left. "I am about to trust you with information not even some Aurors know. You best keep your mouth shut, or I will hunt you down and personally take care of you. I won't bother with going through the law. You understand me?" 

"Yes," he said, scooting forward out of his seat.

Harry peered at him for a minute before continuing.

****************

November 13, 2003

****************

Each Thursday morning meant a long, boring staff meeting. For some reason the second week of the month was picked for this dreadfully wearying occasion. Harry had tried to be out in the field when these would occur, but today he was forced to participate. Fortunately, Ron was sitting directly across from him, passing him what looked like important files. They were not files, however, but humorous passages describing the annoying yet entertaining habits of the others around them.

They sat at a long rectangular table in a conference room in the Ministry. Tonks sat to the right of Harry, looking thoroughly bored. She was pulling at her pink hair, separating split ends which she was examining at a very close range.

Harry was writing a few of the words the Minister was saying on his parchment, but the entire border of his parchment was adorned in snitches, bludgers, Quaffles, and tiny players.

"Pssst," Tonks said, elbowing him in the ribs. Harry looked up at her, but she was signaling to Ron.

Ron had a small red paper ball before him. He was grinning at Harry.

"What?" Harry mouthed at him.

Ron scribbled something on his parchment, looked at the Minister, then showed Harry the sign. 'Table Quidditch.'

Harry nodded, reached across the table and grabbed the representational Quaffle. He tapped it with his wand to make it float better, then got ready to flick it. Ron looked at the Minister again. He was droning on and on about something, but Ron didn't listen long enough to get the gist of it. His head was buried in a pile of notes, his thick glasses on the tip of his nose. Ron sat back in his chair and made a ring with his two thumbs and two pointer fingers touching.

"I get to shoot after you," Tonks whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry flicked the Quaffle. It soared too high, missed the ring completely, and smacked Ron in the eye.

Tonks turned her laugh into a hacking cough, but had to cover her red face.

The Minister droned on.

Now it was Ron's turn. He blinked his eye a few times then positioned the Quaffle on the table, fingers behind it. Harry made a ring with his fingers and sat back in the chair. Ron stuck his tongue out in an odd angle in concentration then flicked it hard. Harry moved the ring so that the Quaffle would pass through it.

"YES!" Ron shouted. Tonks started coughing again, and Harry had to shove his fist in his mouth. The entire table stared at Ron, including the Minister.

"'Yes' what, Mr. Weasley?" he asked.

But lucky for Ron, he never had to explain. The lights in the office suddenly turned red and started to flash. Everyone pushed their chairs back and ran to their appropriate offices. Harry, Ron, and Tonks led the way to the Auror cubicles where a revolving dodecahedron, floating in mid air, awaited them. Once everyone was in the room it spoke in a deep booming voice.

"Three high security prisoners have broken out of the Azkaban prison. Four guards are dead, three are critically wounded. 17 guards have captured the one responsible for the break out. They await further Auror assistance." The dodecahedron blinked out of existence. The Minister looked around at his Aurors. 

"Potter, you go," he said. "They sound like they have it under control. I want a full report when you get back."

Harry went to his desk. Ron followed him. "Harry," he whispered.

"What?" He took a parchment pad, a quill, and some equipment and stuffed it in his robes.

"Take me with you," he pleaded.

"You can't go with me," Harry said. "I have to go now, Ron. I can't dawdle." He walked out of the office, Ron in tow.

"No, please let me go! I need adventure!"

"Weasley," the Minister said, "stay here."

"Harry!" Ron said, his teeth gritted.

Harry sighed. "I'll need some administrative help, Minister. I'm taking Ron with me."

Ron turned around and smiled at the Minister, then berated Harry with thanks.  
  


Massive security guards and huge trolls stood all around the prison itself. Ron and Harry stepped off the ferry (the only possible way to get to Azkaban) and walked to the building. Azkaban was a stone castle, made of black granite slabs. The prison was set up in the middle of the rocky island; tall and menacing. Harry half expected black clouds to topple it.

"You guys the Aurors?" a security wizard asked.

"Yes," Harry said. The wizard nodded then walked away. Harry and Ron followed.

"I've never been here before," Ron muttered, looking avidly around.

"Stay close," Harry said to him.

If the outside of Azkaban looked menacing, it must have looked right cheerful in comparison to the interior. Even without the dementors patrolling the corridors, it wasn't a place one would want to spend their vacation. The black walls were moldy; greenish black goo oozed from the crevices in the wall. It smelled like burnt flesh. Purple flames dimly lit the corridors, but only just. "Lumos," Harry said, and his wand ignited a bright blue flame.

"Harry." the lead guard said. He was a tall man who always reminded Harry of a Viking. He had rich brown hair and a thick brown beard and blue eyes. He came forward towards Harry, a look of utmost concern crinkled in his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The ones who witnessed it are in peril," he said, turning and leading the way down to the dungeons. Harry walked beside the guard and Ron flanked Harry. "They're mumbling incoherently, some of them are humming a strange tune when we ask them about the incident. Who is the other one?" he asked, nodding towards Ron.

"Oh, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Orvell Haden, the head Security Wizard here."

"I wish we could meet in better circumstances," Haden said. "Like I said in the message, Harry, it took 17 wizards to apprehend the one responsible for this."

"Wait, I thought three broke out. What do you mean you caught someone?"

"That's just the problem. There was a break in."

Harry stopped in his tracks; Haden looked like he understood. "That's impossible," Harry said to him. "The only way anyone can get in here is by boat. Was it a guard who double-crossed us, or-"

"No. He appeared out of nowhere. He's not one of ours, he didn't come by the ferry, nor did he swim ashore."

"But it's impossible to Apparate into Azkaban, or Disapparate. So how did he get in and the three get out?"

"Therein lies our problem," Haden said. "Let me show you the scene of the crime." He led them to a cluster of cells. Four dead guards lay on the ground. One of them was still positioned at his post, the other three all pointed to one location. The three cells against the wall were opened, but not broken. It looked as though the prisoners had simply gone out for a stroll. 

"The wounded have been transported to St. Mungo's," Haden said. Harry nodded, walked over the dead bodies, and stood in the central spot. 

"He stood here," Harry said. "He took out the first guard before he even realized what had happened. Then these three came to attack, but they were killed instantly. He opened each door with magic, because their keys are still at their side," Harry said.

"It's impossible to unlock the doors without those keys, and if anyone other than the prescribed wizard touches those keys, they'd go insane."

"It appears, Haden, that nothing is impossible," Harry said, running his hand back through his hair. He walked to each door and ran his finger down the hinges, the frame, and the door itself.

"What do you reckon, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Is it possible that the, uh, perpetrator put the Imperius curse on the guards and made them open the doors?"

Harry shook his head. "No. All Azkaban guards are taught to resist the curse."

"That's not possible. The only person I've ever met to resist that curse is you," Ron whispered.

"Azkaban guard training is extensive, Ron. I'll explain it to you later, okay? The full tuition given to them is classified, so not many know about it. But we have to rule out the curse. It's something else."

"What?" Ron asked, feeling the door's edge with his finger.

"I don't know." He turned back to Haden. "You said it took 17 men to apprehend the one responsible for this. Is he still alive?"

"Yes. He was hit with three stunners at once. We put him in the tower."

"I want to speak with him. I also want to know what prisoners these cells belong to," Harry told him, waving at the empty cells. The names of the prisoners were not anywhere near the actual cells, just numbers.

"I have that right here," he said, handing Harry a file. "I'll take you to the tower."

"Ron," Harry said. "Take pictures, still pictures of the scene and the cells. And I want you to do a scan of this entire room, even the damn air, got it?"

"Sure," Ron said, looking at the uncovered dead bodies. "Harry?"

"What?" 

"Could I have someone living down here please?" he said under his breath so only Harry could hear.

"Sure," he replied.

"Thanks mate," he said with a sigh of relief. Harry turned again, told Haden to send someone down to assist Ron, and walked up to the tower.

He popped open the file and looked at the brief files of the escaped prisoners. 

The first was a man named Guy Burgess who was incarcerated September 22, 1980. Charges were espionage for Lord Voldemort and recruiting Death Eaters. But most of the required information for the prisoner was blank. There wasn't a name for the one who apprehended him or a date of his trial. Guy Burgess had been here for over 23 years and was never tried for his charges. There was a picture of him, taken in 1980. He had been a handsome man with sandy blonde hair, though he looked slightly hazed.

Harry read on. Burgess had worked as a historian at the International Wizard Bureau of Investigation, Intelligence sector. He was an American, living in Modesto California just before his subsequent arrest. But who arrested him? Who sent him to prison? Why was he never given a trial? Harry flipped through and found a current photo of him. He was spooky looking, like the rest of them. He had been here when the dementors stood guard, and even after. His hair was still blonde, but was unkempt and frizzy. His eyes looked dead, as Sirius's had, and dark. Yet he was still recognizable as the man who had entered.

Harry flipped to the next prisoner. Kim Philby was incarcerated on November 15, 1981 on charges of attempted murder, espionage, working for Lord Voldemort, and penetration of the International Wizard Bureau of Investigation. His entire file was complete. He stood trial in 1982 and was found guilty on all charges. There was a note saying that he had been recruited by Guy Burgess years before. He also worked for the IWBI, but as the Vice Director of the Counterintelligence Sector. Philby also had a before and after picture. He had entered prison as a middle aged man, not winning any awards for looks. Now, however, he was downright offensive. He was completely bald, but his dark eyebrows were overgrown, so they drooped into his eyes, which looked as dead as the others. His cheeks were sunken in and his lips were white and thin.

The third prisoner needed no explanation. Harry said his name out loud as they reached the tower. "Lucius Malfoy!"

"Yes, it's the second time he broke out of this place. The first time was understandable; our security was abysmal, but this time... Well, he's right inside, Harry." Haden pointed to a thick black door, so shiny Harry could see his reflection. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

Harry closed the file, handed it back to Haden, whipped out his wand, and shook his head. "No. I'll go alone." He pushed the door open, eased his way into the small round room, and shut the door with a great clunk behind him.

The man was still unconscious in a heap on the floor. Harry walked over to him and, with his foot, flipped him over on his back. He was wearing a silver mask, even over his eyes. Harry bent down carefully, put his fingers to the man's chin, and pulled off the mask.

The face that met his eyes was one he hadn't seen, or missed seeing, in many years. His silver yellow hair was slicked back into his hood, his pointed chin rested on his chest, and that sneering mouth was curled in a smile, even as he lay unconscious. 

"_Ennervate_!" Harry said, pointing his wand at Malfoy's chest. Malfoy took a huge breath then opened his eyes, sitting up quickly and staring around. He started to stand when Harry kicked him back down.

"I would stay down before I put you there permanently," Harry said, almost growling. Draco looked first at Harry's legs then slowly moved his head towards Harry's eyes.

"I thought I would see you here, Potter," he drawled. He scooted himself towards the wall, propped one of his knees up, and rested his arm there. "There's never any action without you around."

"You're so lucky you're not dead," Harry said. "And you'll be even luckier if I find a reason not to kill you personally."

To Harry's dismay, Draco broke into a grin, then chuckled. "Killing me won't stop anything."

"How did you get in to Azkaban?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you love to know," Draco replied. "Thought you had everything under control, didn't you Potter? I saw you lurking around trying to find out about us... Pity you couldn't learn more."

"Answer my question," Harry said in a low whisper.

"Magic," he grinned.

Harry smirked. He showed Malfoy his wand, then slipped it inside his robes. Then he showed Draco his empty hands, like a magician does before he performs. Harry turned his back to him then paced the room, breathing deeply and steadily. Facing the opposite wall, Harry shut his eyes, flexed his fingers, and cocked his head from side to side. He flipped back to face Malfoy so fast that his cloak whipped the wall. He thrust his palms towards Draco and opened his green eyes.

Draco was lifted off the floor and hit the wall with a force greater than a hurricane. He would have screamed if his chest could allow it, but the pressure was too great. Draco's face was screwed up in pain, tears flowing from his sealed eyes. He was kicking his legs, flailing his arms as if pushing whatever was keeping him in place. Then he too opened his eyes.

Harry was grinning with malice, his green eyes glowing in the dark room, crackling with magic. Some kind of force was being expelled from him like vibrating shock waves, coming out of his palms and striking Draco's chest.

Blood started to trickle out of Draco's nose and mouth. Harry closed his palms. 

With a painful thud, Draco hit the floor. He looked at Harry, wiping blood from his nose, to see him still grinning.

"Care to specify what kind of magic you used?" he asked. He posed the question like he was asking what kind oil one would put in a car.

Draco sat back against the wall. "You can't kill me," he said, minus the sarcasm and confidence. "You won't kill me."

"That is not the answer I'm looking for, Malfoy," Harry said simply. He walked toward him and kicked Draco hard in the stomach, sending him back to the wall. "I don't have time for games."

Draco coughed and clenched his fists. "You can't treat a prisoner like this," he said. "You'll get busted."

Harry laughed. "I'll get 'busted' will I? Look around. It's just you and me in here. I can treat you however I want. Now answer my damn question!"

"My father-"

Harry kicked Draco again. "I am fed up with hearing about your daddy. Daddy isn't here to save you. He left you here to deal with me. You have killed four Azkaban guards. Do you know what that means, little Draco? Let me explain it to you. You will be spending the rest of your life in prison. Daddy is a ruined man. Everyone knows what he's like; no one will respect him. Your mummy can't help you either. She's poorer than the Weasleys ever were. You have nothing, you hear me? Your daddy isn't going to save you. You're a worthless piece of vermin, being kicked around by me. How does it feel?" he asked, lifting Draco up by his robes and shoving him into the wall. "How does it feel to have me beating you? I can tell you, from my perspective, it feels pretty damn good."

Draco made to spit in Harry's face, but before the saliva could even escape his mouth, his face was on the floor, Harry standing on his back. He grabbed a handful of that slicked hair and pulled up.

"How did you get into Azkaban!" Harry yelled in Draco's ear.

Draco didn't answer.

"Tell me, Damn it!" he bellowed. But Draco was dedicated to his secrecy and said nothing. Harry lifted him up again and slammed him to the wall. His forearm was now against Draco's throat. "Tell me," he whispered.

Though in great pain and most likely frightened, Draco found it in himself to smile at Harry and laugh at him. "I guess you're heart isn't in it enough, Potter," he sniggered. Harry pulled back and, without touching him or using his wand, Draco flew ten feet, hit the wall, and fell to the floor in a pile. He was out cold. Harry faced his palm toward the silver mask and it flew to him, then he left the cell.

"Well?" Haden asked.

"Nothing," Harry muttered. "Keep him in the most secure cell you have and make sure he doesn't have the strength to wriggle his nose."

He walked back down to the scene of the crime. Ron was writing a report, a camera at his side. The Magical Forensic Unit was also there. They probably pushed Ron out of the way.

"Ready to leave?"

Ron jumped out of his chair, grabbed his camera, and ran past Harry towards the exit. Once outside, Ron started asking questions. "How did he do it? Get inside that is?"

Harry shook his head. "He wouldn't say." He jumped on the ferry and stood aside so Ron could do the same. "He just wouldn't say!" he yelled, kicking the bench. He slumped down onto a chair and put his head in his hands.

"You'll figure it out, Harry," Ron said, hoping to inspire confidence. "You always figure it out." He sighed and sat down next to him. "Maybe I don't have what it takes after all. You walked in there with no problem, but those bodies really..."

Harry sat up and leaned back in the chair, folding his arms as he looked to Ron. "Seeing death is never easy. You should never get used to it, don't even try. But your problem is lack of confidence. I know you can become an Auror, Tonks knows it, Hermione knows it. The only person who doesn't think you have what it takes is you. So stop whining and do it already." He grabbed his own parchment and quill and began writing.


	3. The Ruptured Citadel

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Chapter Three: The Ruptured Citadel 

******

Present

******

Harry watched the doctor watch him.  He had told the story quite casually, though the whole ordeal was nothing short of remarkable.

            "Broken into, you say?" he asked.

            Harry yawned and nodded.  "Yes.  Reports that the Ministry released claim that three prisoners, unnamed, by the way, escaped from Azkaban.  The details and truth have been locked away.  As far as I'm aware, Draco Malfoy is still in his cell. Rotting, I hope."

            "So his father didn't go back for him.  Why not?" he asked.  

            Harry drew up the corners of his mouth and shook his head.  "Chronology, remember?  We're going in order of how I experienced it.  I got the answer not long ago, but I have a story to tell."

            Marc changed the direction of the conversation.  "You and Draco are school enemies, yes?"

            "Yes."

            "All seven years?"

            "All seven years."

            "With no sign, no attempt to let your animosity go?"

            "No," Harry said.

            "Do you ever wish you had?  I mean, you obviously hate him very much. Do you wish you would have resolved your differences?"

            Harry stared at him as though Marc was brain dead.  "I don't work that way," he said.  "The difference between Malfoy and me is very clear.  He is a dark wizard, and I hate dark wizards.  He was bred to pursue the dark arts, and I was bred to get rid of them.  Malfoy's crowd killed my family.  Resolve our differences?  I think that would be like asking Anne Frank to put her differences aside for Hitler.  Wake up, Marc.  This isn't Utopia.  People are real, they're not worthy of great fairy tales where everyone loves one another.  Malfoy and I will always hate each other.  Differences cannot be 'put aside.'  He is an evil man with no strain of good inside him.  This is the real world."

            "From what I know about prisoner treatment," he said, changing the subject again, "it's illegal to do what you did to Mr. Malfoy."

            Harry laughed a booming laugh.  "Yes it was.  But you see, Malfoy wasn't a prisoner, was he?  Technically, he hadn't been charged with the crimes.  He didn't have a trial or any legal advice.  He was caught.  Still, I never told anyone about what I did to him," he said smirking.  "If the news gets out, I'll know you were the one who squealed.  But even if he was a prisoner, it wouldn't have made a shred of difference."

            "Why not?"

            "Why not?" he asked angrily.  Harry's face got red and his hands balled into fists.  "He killed four people and released three deadly, cunning prisoners, doctor!  Listen to yourself!  You care more about the perpetrator than the victims.  They're dead!" he yelled.  "I slapped Malfoy around a little because he killed four people and wouldn't tell me how.  He killed sons and fathers!  The people he freed are in the killing business!  More people died and will die.  How dare you sit there and scold me for kicking that piece of shit!  You have no idea what it takes to make this world safe.  Malfoy is still alive and well, and guilty.  But you care more about him and his 'rights' as a prisoner.  Well, aren't you a special, loving, caring, bleeding hearted man.  I've met so many people like you, thinking of themselves as warm and loving people, all fuzzy for people in prison not being treated well. Here's an idea for you, and you can go tell your friends this too; turn all of that 'warm and loving care' onto those who really need it, the victims!"  He sat back in his bed, breathing heavily.  He crossed his arms and stared at the wall.

            Marc paused his tape recorder and let his mind wander.  Harry didn't say anything to him, didn't even cast a glance his way.

            "Harry look," Marc began, but he was cut off.

            "Don't even try justifying it.  You care too much for the scum of the earth."

            "That isn't—"

            "Just shut up, okay?  Shut up.  Leave me alone.  Go have your stale lunch.  Go spend lunch with your wife and leave me alone.  Come back when you think your way through, not _feel_ your way through life.  Now go."

            "But we're so close to the incident at Hogwarts, Harry, couldn't we just finish it?"

            "No.  And why do you keep calling it an incident?  It was a hostage situation.  Call it what it is.  Get out and don't come back until you have some decent common sense."  Harry turned and pointed to the exit wall, scowling at Marc with loathing.

            He didn't have much of a choice.  Harry had closed him off completely and he'd have to figure out a way to get him talking again.  He stood up and left.  Marc kicked the observation room door open and threw a file on the floor.  "DAMN IT!" he yelled, striding into the room.  "I was getting to him.  Why did I fall into his trap?"

            "Because you took more interest in his story rather than him," the Indian woman said.  She gave him a pitying stare.  "But it's understandable coming from you."  She pushed her bony hands into her pockets and pulled out a cigarette box and a lighter.

            "What's with the smoking?  Why does everyone in here smoke?  And just who the hell are you?"

            The woman concentrated on putting the cigarette into her mouth and lit it.  She exhumed three puffs of smoke before talking to him again.  "I started smoking years ago.  Not everyone smokes; it's just your perception.  Perception, despite each person's small minded thinking, is not reality.  And who the hell I am is certainly none of your business.  What is your business, Doctor Simon, is why you know as little about Mr. Potter as my falcon does."  She strolled over to the circular table in the middle of the room and sat down, laying her feet on the top of it.  The two wardens had been playing a card game.       

            "Do you mind?" one of them asked as her boots landed on the deck.

            "Not really.  So doctor," she said, exhaling more white smoke, "why are you allowing Harry to call the shots?"

            Marc walked over to her and stared.  "How long have you been watching me with him?"

            She smiled.  "Only when I've been here," she said condescendingly, looking over her short nose at him.  "But I have seen enough to know who is the master and who is the idiot.  Harry Potter _is not_ the idiot."

            "Are you a psychologist?" Marc asked as he leaned against the solid wall.

            "What do you think?" she asked with her eyes narrowed into slits.

            "I think you should keep your nose out of my work," he answered.  "Tell me who you are and what you're doing here."

            "Yes and no."

            "Pardon?"

            "Yes I am a psychologist and, no, I'm not telling you who I am.  Harry's right; you are a terrible listener.  He deserves someone who knows what they're doing in there.  He's told you so much and you can't piece it together.  He should have kicked you out like the others."

            Marc squinted at her.  She was unusually short and skinny.  Her face could be pretty if she smiled more often.  The edges of her lips were pulled downwards, her nose was bony and short, and her eyes were so opaque that they reminded him of tunnels which led to more darkness.  Yet there was a great mystery about her that he couldn't explain.  As if reading his mind, she smirked.

            "That's what you should be doing to him," she said, pointing with her cigarette at the wall.  "You're getting the picture, aren't you Marc?  Because you don't know who I am you're trying to learn.  It was a mistake for you to read Harry's file because now you think you know him.  It's much simpler to go the long way around."

            "Why do you keep calling him 'Harry?'" he asked.

            Again, she smirked.  "Ah, getting better all the time.  You tell me."

            "You've met him before, haven't you?"

            "In a manner of speaking."

            "So Harry knows you?" he asked.  He pulled up a chair and sat down to face her.  He pulled his glasses off his face and wiped them on his shirt.

            "Meeting and knowing are very different things.  It's best not to mix them up.  Look, I'm going to give you a few pointers because I want him cracked open just as much as you do.  First of all, it shouldn't matter if you think he's lying about Leucosia.  Do your best to pretend he's telling you the truth and he will respect you.  Secondly, act as he does.  If he's pushing you around like he's been doing since you walked in that door, push him back.  If there is one thing you should remember about him, it's that he hates it when people elevate him.  Thirdly, show some back bone.  I understand your fear of him.  Harry Potter is a powerful wizard, especially for someone that young.  But he smells your fear and he's feeding off of it.  He's got disabling charms on him.  He can hardly stand up.  He can't hurt you with magic so he's feeding off of your fear of him.  You got all that?"

            Marc thought about what she had said and nodded to her.  "Good advice," he admitted.

            "Yeah, that needs to stop," she snapped.  "You're too nice.  Let me ask you something.  If you were locked up in a box like Harry is, would you want some prep boy to act nice?  He doesn't.  He is a smart mouthed punk, so you go in there and treat him like one.  I promise you he'll react to it."

            "What?  That's insane."

            "You've tried nice, haven't you?  Nice isn't working.  He walks all over you like he does the Minister.  Listen to my advice; I know more than you could ever hope.  Now get back in there and ask him about Hogwarts."

            "He doesn't want to talk."

            "You actually think he wants to be in that room all by himself staring at the wall?  No.  Give him something to do.  Yell at him if you have to.  And bring this screen back up," she ordered the wardens.  "I hate not being able to see something.  Surely your discussion on the escaped convicts is over, doctor."

            "Don't you have a job?" he asked angrily.  "Or are you just here to baby-sit me?"

            "Yes.  Get back in there," she ordered.

            He would certainly lose a staring competition with this woman, so he made an about face and went back into Harry's cell.  Harry was sitting up now, his legs hung over one side of the bed.  He flashed a glance at Marc, rolled his eyes, and stood up.  "Back so soon?" he asked.

            "I would like you to tell me about the hostage situation at Hogwarts," he said simply. 

            "And I would like for you to grow a brain," he sighed as he walked to his bathroom.  "But we can't always have what we want, can we?"  He closed the bathroom door.  

            Marc walked over to the bed stand and noticed that the cigarettes were just as he left them the previous day.  Harry walked back out, holding onto the wall for support.  Then he sat in the chair Marc had used.  "Really," he started, "why are you back here today?"

            "Hogwarts.  That's the pinnacle of your story, isn't it?"

            "No."

            "Well, it's important and I think you should tell me about it."

            "No.  Read about it."

            "No," Marc said.  "You tell me."

            Harry shook his head and laughed so hard tears started to form.  "Oh, doctor," he managed through his hysterics.  "That was terrible.  You expect me to quiver with fear from that?  I'm glad you're doing this.  You'd die out in the real world.  You need to practice with your threats, but at least you're trying.  I'll give you that much.  You're lucky I'm so bored in here.  There are no books, no paintings, no nothing."

            "Does that mean you'll tell me?" Marc asked.

            Harry drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.  "It was a frustrating event."

            "Yes I know," he said.  He sat on Harry's bed.  "Why don't you tell me about it," he said quite sincerely.  He continued on, not allowing Harry to give him an answer.  "You were gone most of that day, December 24th, but you managed to show up in the Great Hall of Hogwarts right on time.  Let's start from there, unless you would rather discuss your whereabouts that day."

            "It's not important," he said, folding his hands in his lap.  He took a deep breath and sighed.  "December 24, 2003.  Possibly the worst, yet luckiest, day of my life."

****************

December 24, 2003

****************

Snow fell from the tall ceiling of the Great Hall.  It wasn't real snow, but a spell which depicted the weather outside.  A dozen great Christmas tress adorned with real fairies lined the walls.  The entire room was lit with what seemed to be gold, but it was actually the hovering chandeliers which reflected their own light.

            The four house tables had been moved and were replaced with at least fifty smaller tables made of a deep oak.  Hundreds of people were here, all dressed for the occasion.  Red and green were the predominant colors of the robes on the women, but the men seemed to be sticking with black.  

            Harry lit up a cigarette before he entered the mass of alumni.  If he tried he could avoid most of them and find his table.  He knew Hermione and Ron would be here, but he wasn't sure about anyone else.  As far as he knew, Tonks was coming; she would be here on a lax patrol.  Fred and George were probably doing business, as it was the busiest time of the year for them.  They would only be allowed to come if they had been invited by a relative, for they never graduated.

            "Harry," a familiar voice said beside him.  He turned around to see Hermione grinning at him.  She wore robes of sky blue this evening and her hair was strait and shiny.  "You made it," she said, sounding surprised.

            "Yeah I did.  You look gorgeous," he said.

            "Thank you.  You're not looking too bad yourself.  But you might consider leaving your leather trench coat in the entrance hall.  It makes you look a little on the rough and rugged side."

            "Suggestion noted," he said with a grin.  She smiled, took his arm, and led him to their table.  "Right in the middle, eh?" he said.

            "Don't be so excited," Ron said.  He was sitting next to his father, who was adjacent to Tonks.  Hermione seemed to be without Luke Broadmoor and Ron was without female companionship.  Harry was right about Fred and George; they were keeping their store open until ten that night.  Charlie, Ron explained, was too busy to get away, and Bill didn't want to come.  Ron couldn't help but grin.  And Ginny was spending the holiday with her boyfriend's family; a sign of commitment, according to Tonks.

            "So, it's just the losers who came here?" Harry said casually as he sat next to Hermione.

            "Too true," Ron said.  "Where's Lucas, Hermione?" 

            "He promised his parents he would spend Christmas with them.  And he goes by Luke.  Honestly, Ron, why must you mock all of my boyfriends?  You act like you're jealous of them," she said with a bit of a pompous air about her.

            "I am not jealous.  I would never want to date you," he said, not meeting her eyes.

            "Oh, so I'm just some throw away then?" she asked.  Harry turned his attention to Arthur, who hadn't looked at him at all.

            "Happy Christmas, Arthur," Harry said to him.

            "Yes," he said with a polite smile to Harry.  "Happy Christmas to you."  He took a large gulp of wine.  "Have any plans for tomorrow?"

            Harry allowed himself a smile.  "I was thinking about doing a little traveling.  What about you?"

            "Spending time with the family, just like every Christmas.  You'd probably find it boring compared to your line of work," he said.  Harry knew what Arthur was up to.  He was trying to make Harry jealous.

            With a laugh Harry answered, "I probably would.  What about you, Tonks?  Are you spending time with your family?"

            "Yeah," she said with a sigh.  "My mother's side tomorrow, just her parents," she said quickly, "and dad's parents on the twenty-sixth.  Too much family time if you ask me.  So where were you today, Harry?"

            "Home," he said.

            "Really?  Why didn't you answer the door when I called on you?"

            "I must have been in the shower or something.  Dobby's on vacation."

            "You see," Hermione said, ceasing her argument with Ron and turning her attention to Harry.  "You are the ideal employer.  You pay Dobby a good wage, he has reasonable hours, a place of his own, which you got for him, and you give him vacation!  Not to mention he adores you and you treat him so well.  If only all house elves could really see the benefit in freedom."

            "Um," Harry said to her, lowering his voice, "I think you should know that most house elves don't want freedom, Hermione.  Just a hint," he said with a wink.

            Ron chuckled to himself, but a little too loudly.

            "Ron," she said exasperatedly, "why don't you get your own opinion instead of laughing at someone else's."  She threw her napkin down, glared at Harry momentarily, then got up and mingled.

            Harry watched her talk to Professor McGonagall, and then turned back to the table.  "If this is all that's here, I'm sorry I came.  I don't even see Dumbledore or anyone else I'm keen on speaking with.  Maybe I'll just head back home."

            "You can't leave!" Ron said.

            "Why not?"

            "Because," he said.  "This is Hogwarts."

            Harry chortled and glanced at Tonks.  "You're really going for the obvious, aren't you?  Tonks, what's your bet on Ron making Auror training next year?"

            But Tonks wasn't listening.  She was looking into the crowd with a dreamy look playing about her face.  Her eyes were glazed over, one side of her mouth was drawn up, and her hair changed from brown to strawberry blonde in a few seconds.  Ron turned to see who she was focused on, but Harry continued to brood in silence; Arthur Weasley did the same.

            "Who is she looking at?" Ron asked Harry after poking his side.

            Harry drank some wine, closed his eyes, and passed air through his teeth.  "Lupin," he said causally, taking another sip.

            "Lupin!" Ron exclaimed.  "You've got to be kidding me.  What's she see in him?" Ron asked.  

            "Why don't you ask her, Ron, she's sitting across from you," Harry said.  He finished his drink then backed away from the table and walked about.  _If he left, no one would care_, he thought. Hermione was still discussing something important with McGonagall, and Ron was looking confused and stupid as he considered asking Tonks what she saw in Lupin.  Remus was pouring himself a glass of punch.  Harry decided he would have a word with him.

            "Hello, Professor," he said.

            He looked up at Harry.  He looked tired and worn as usual.  But tonight his robes were new, his shoulders were raised, and he had much more color in his face.  He gave Harry a peaceful smile.

            "You're an adult now, Harry, you can call me Remus," he said.

            "That would be really weird, and hard.  How are you these days?" 

            Remus exhaled a "hmm," then shook his head.  "I suppose I could be better.  I would rather not speak about it.  What about you?  Your life is far more interesting than mine, I daresay.  What's going on in the Auror business?"

            "Evil is just about to take over the world," Harry said nonchalantly.

            Remus grinned.  "Nothing new then?"

            "No," Harry said as he glanced again at Hermione, "nothing new.  There always seems to be some group of dark idiots who think they can take over the world.  They don't care to notice that so far no one has, but it takes all kinds.  I probably shouldn't tell you this," Harry started.

            Remus set down his punch and bent his head forward.  "Tell me what?" he said.

            "All right, since you begged me to tell you," he said sarcastically, "Tonks has been staring at you for over five minutes.  I think you've pushed some of her buttons.  Go over and talk to her; make the next move."

            Remus lost most of the color in his thin face.  "She has?" Remus asked.  He glanced tentatively at Tonks and snapped his head back to Harry.  "She is.  Um," he said, scratching the back of his head, "I should talk to her, right?"

            "Speaking_ is _a good form of communication.  Besides, you've known her for years; there's no pressure.  Ask her to dance or something."

            Remus looked around the Great Hall.  "Harry, no one is dancing."

            "So be the first one.  She'll think it's very romantic."

            "Why are you pushing this?"  Remus asked, smirking.

            "Because I'm bored and you need to get some.  Go ask her to dance, you coward."

            "I can't do that!" Remus said as Harry began to push him towards the table.  "I can't, Harry!"

            "Would you feel more comfortable if other couples were dancing?" he asked.  He looked over at Hermione again; who was now talking with someone Harry didn't know.

            "Maybe, but don't count on it.  I've never made a move like this!"

            "Go ask her, I'll take care of the rest," he said.  He gave Remus a mighty push then walked to Hermione.

            "They've been brainwashed," she was telling her guest.  "House elves have been brainwashed to think they want to serve humans, but they don't.  House elves need freedom and payment for their work."

            "So we should free horses and dogs as well?" the man said.

            Hermione shook her head in disgust.  "House elves are different from horses and dogs."

            "Why, just because they can talk?"

            "No.  Well, yes, because house elves are intelligent creatures."

            "Hermione," Harry said abruptly, pulling her arm, "dance with me."

            She pulled her arm away from him and frowned.  "Why?"

            "Just do it," he said and he pulled her away.

            "I was having a perfectly good debate before you showed up.  What's your problem, anyway?  Why couldn't you dance with some other girl?  I'm sure any one of them would want you."  She tried walking back to her debate but he pulled her about, took her hand, placed his other hand around her waist, and started to dance.  He looked at Remus talking to Tonks.

            "Harry," Hermione said, "there isn't any music.  Why are we doing this?"

            "I'm bored."

            Hermione pulled away from him.  "What?  Because you're bored you decided that I was the last resort?"

            "No," he replied.  "I'm trying to get Tonks and Remus together on the dance floor, but he wouldn't do it unless other people were dancing.  I saved you from losing that debate and I'm trying to save myself from the boredom of this stupid event that I _had_ to attend.  Now, dance with me so they can get on the floor and let the sparks fly.  Don't you want Remus to be happy?  Don't you want some form of entertainment other than yapping at people you don't even like?  Come on, Hermione, he's all alone in the world.  He needs someone."

            Hermione looked over at her table where Remus was talking animatedly with Tonks.  She sighed and picked up the position with Harry.  She was the one leading.  "Everyone is watching us," she said as she fixed a smile on him.  "Luke will be very jealous and angry if the papers report that you and I are seeing each other."

            The small orchestra in the corner of the Great Hall began to play now that a couple was dancing.

            "And I was not losing that debate," she said.  "Some people are just dense.  They don't want to see the injustice of our government because that would mean changing it.  They don't want to change it because that would require work on their part.  Honestly, sometimes I can't understand how humans get anywhere if we're this lazy."

            "He's taking her hand," Harry said as he watched Remus lead Tonks to the floor.  He also noticed that several other couples were beginning to waltz.

            "Really?" Hermione asked, turning her attention to Tonks.  "Wouldn't that be great if they were a couple?  I really wish Professor Lupin would settle down with someone.  They would be cute together."

            Harry suddenly dropped her hand and started walking back to the table.  Hermione threw her hands in the air and marched after him.  "That's it?  We're done dancing now?"

            "Yeah," Harry said as he sat back down.  "I thought you were afraid that Luke would think something was up if we we're seen together.  Besides, the job's done.  We can watch from the comfort of our seats."

            Ron was laughing.  "What's so funny, Ron?" Hermione snapped.  Ron stopped laughing.  "Good," she said, and then rounded on Harry.  "And why are you acting like this?  I'm getting really tired of you, Harry.  It's like a chore to be nice to you when you act, well, like this."

            "Maybe I'll leave then," Harry said and he raised his eyebrows at her and turned around, walking out of the Great Hall.  Hermione was at a loss for words.

            Harry stepped slowly into the entrance hall, but stopped.  He had a squirming sensation in his stomach.  "That's no way to treat your friends," he told himself.  He leaned his head on the stone wall and shut his eyes.

            "What are you doing out here?" an oily voice said.  Harry knew exactly who it was and was in no mood to speak with him.  He didn't turn around to give him the satisfaction. "Shouldn't you be in there with your 'gang'?"  He took a few steps closer to Harry.  "What's the matter, Potter, they don't want you anymore?"

            "I guess that's something you know a little too well, not being wanted, isn't it, Snape?" Harry said.  He still didn't face him, but he smirked when he heard Snape's silence.  "You're still looking for someone who can understand loneliness like you, right?  How long has it been, Snape?  How long have you been alone?"  Harry turned around.  "How long?"

            Snape hadn't changed one iota since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts.  He only looked older, but he was still the ugly, greasy, Snape.  

            He didn't answer Harry's question.

            "You can't pick on me anymore.  You can't dock house points.  The tables have turned, haven't they?"  Harry drew a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips, lighting it with a snap of his fingers.  He exhaled a thick cloud in Snape's face.  "I was never scared of you.  But now it seems that you, _sir_, are terrified of me.  Rightly so, of course.  Why don't you get back in that Hall and try fitting in.  Go on," he said with a malicious smirk. "Try it.  I'll be in shortly to watch."  He took in a deep breath and held on.  "Even Lupin the wolf isn't alone.  That must kill you inside.  Go on in there and see for yourself."

            "One day, Potter —" 

            Harry chortled.  "Oh yeah?  One day what, Snape?  You'll slip poison in my drink?  You'll tell me I'm arrogant?  Oooooh, I'm scared now."

            Dumbledore walked between the two of them.  "Problem, gentlemen?" he asked.  "There's a lovely party inside, why don't we all go in together."  It wasn't a request.  He pushed the two of them back into the Great Hall.  Now at least half the quests were dancing, including Remus and Tonks.  Snape removed himself from Dumbledore's shove and meandered to a corner.  Dumbledore gave a deep sigh.  "Did you bring a guest, Harry?"

            "No," he replied.

            "I see.  You decided you would be enough to bless us with your joy.  Try to remember that it is Christmas."

            Harry looked back at him, opened his mouth, and then shut it again.

            "I see your friends are here with you.  Shouldn't that make you the least bit pleased?" Dumbledore asked with a sad sort of smile.

            Harry swallowed and nodded.  "Sure," he said.

            Dumbledore stopped short in his walking and faced Harry, placing both of his hands on Harry's shoulders.  "What is troubling you?"

            Harry stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes.  He felt that Dumbledore was trying to bore into his mind and extract his thoughts by force.  Harry tore his eyes away and began staring at Ron who was talking jovially with his father.

            "It's nothing important," Harry answered him.  "I'll live.  I always do."  He gave him a smile which didn't crinkle the flaps of his eyes.  

            The doors of the Great Hall burst open once more that evening.  Fred and George, in all their glory, entered.  One wore a suit of red, the other of green.  Each was accompanied by an attractive woman.  Dumbledore whirled around to see them, as did most in the room.  Some of the guests applauded them, others bowed. Some of the older guests shook their heads and mumbled amongst their fellows.  Arthur Weasley rose to greet them with a grin that Harry hadn't received from him in many years.

            "Harry!" Fred shouted in greeting.  He was the one in festive red.  "Didn't expect to see you here, old chap!  Allow me to introduce my date for this evening," he said as his blonde date smiled with glowing white teeth and sparkling eyes.  "This is Jasmine McDonald," he said.  "Jasmine, this is Harry Potter."

            Not breaking from convention, she gave him the same greeting as everyone else nowadays.  "Oh," she said, putting her hand to her chest.  "It's so nice to meet you.  I never thought I would see you."

            Harry hated how she said it, how they all said it— like he was some special breed of tiger in the zoo being talked about in the papers.  _Yes, new breed_, they would say.  _You must go have a look at him.  He's very special._

"It's nice to meet you," Harry replied, shaking her hand weakly.

            "Jasmine's a model," Fred said.  "Well, we'll be seeing you around, Harry!" and he took her to the dance floor.  Then George came up with his date, who was just as lovely as Fred's.  Her name was Caroline.  She had red hair, darker than George's, and blue eyes.  She greeted Harry the same as Jasmine, then walked away with George.

            "They admire you," Dumbledore said as Harry walked away again.  "You literally saved the world, Harry."

            "I wish it would never need saving.  There's always someone out there, sir, who is trying to do it again.  Why can't they leave it alone?"  Harry abandoned Dumbledore and walked back to Ron to say goodbye; he didn't feel like staying any longer.

            "I had no idea Fred or George would show up this early," Arthur was saying to Ron.  He looked pink with happiness and pride. 

            "You're not leaving already, are you?  You just got here," Ron said with a frown to his friend.

            Harry grinned.  "Yeah, I'm going.  I have things to do.  Happy Christmas to you, Ron, Arthur..."  Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, cocked his head from side to side, and began walking out of the Hall, people pointing and staring at him as he left.  He could feel Dumbledore's disappointed grimace following him, but he didn't care as much as he thought he would.

            Then the air inside suddenly turned wet and warm.  He reached for the handle to open the door.  His hand started to shake.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  He could feel goose pimples bumping up all over his body.  Harry whirled around to look back into the hall.  Nothing appeared different...

            He walked briskly to Dumbledore, who was chatting with some guests much younger than him.  Harry seized Dumbledore by the collar and whipped him around.  

            "What is it?" Dumbledore asked.  "You look ill, Harry."  

            But Harry wasn't listening to Dumbledore.  His eyes were darting around the room to look at the people.  Hermione was looking disgusted as some guy talked her up— Fred was about to kiss Jasmine— a five year old boy was stealing some cake— a large woman was helping herself to more chicken.  

            Harry suddenly couldn't hear the activity in the room.  He could hear his heavy breaths; short and shallow.  Dumbledore was calling to him from far away, gripping his shoulders.  

            The volume turned back on.

            "Harry," Dumbledore said, now looking quite frightened; an emotion Harry had never seen on him.  "What's wrong?"

            "We need," Harry started in weak tones, "we need to get them out," he uttered.

            "Get who out?  What are you talking about?"

            Harry let go of Dumbledore and was walking toward Hermione and Ron when it happened.

            It began with someone's shrill scream.  Harry spun around to stare.  A man dressed in black robes was coming out of the air.  Harry's eyes widened.  The man didn't just appear, like with Apparation.  No, he walked out of the air, like it was a door. 

            The man stunned the woman and shot a spell at the golden chandelier.  Now several people were screaming.  Harry continued to look around the room.  Two more men had sliced through the Great Hall and were herding the guests into the center, like cattle.  Harry pulled out his wand and moved out of the group.  Dumbledore did the same, but went the other way.

            There was more screaming as five more men came and joined the other three.  They stunned people, used curses on them, kicked them into the center.  

            "Stupefy," Harry murmured.  One of them was knocked down, simple as that.  Harry aimed for another and murmured again.  He also fell.  But they were noticing; the others were adapting.  When Harry tried to hit a third, it didn't work.  The spell bounced off of him and hit the frightened five year old. 

            "Ladies and Gentleman," one of the hooded men said over the screams of terror and anger.  "Please calm down.  Calm down, I said.  Dear, dear we are excited over all this."  Harry recognized that drawl anywhere.  He looked up. 

            As if practiced, all of the intruders lowered their hoods to show themselves.  The leader was, as Harry suspected, Lucius Malfoy.  Two wizards flanked his sides; Harry recognized them from photos he had seen after the break-in at Azkaban.  Guy Burgess stood to Lucius's right, Kim Philby to the left.  Harry squirmed his way into the middle of the mass of people and tried to get a good aim.

            "Would Mr. Harry Potter please come to the front?" Lucius said with a grin.  "Calling Mr. Potter," he sang.  The two wizards to his left laughed.  Harry remained where he was.  "I don't have all night, you know.  Should we have some fun?" he asked his two mates.  They reached out and took hold of a girl; someone's daughter.

            "Daddy!" she cried, reaching for her father.  But when her father went after her, he was knocked back by an invisible wall.  Some of the other hostages tried to get the girl back, but they too were blocked by the force field.

            Lucius threw the girl at Guy Burgess, then pulled out his wand and point it at her heart.  "I will count to three," he said, looking into the crowd.  "You know I'll do it, Harry.  One," he started.

            Harry rushed forward, wand thrust out in front of him.  Lucius grinned.  "Very good, Potter.  Now give your wand to Kim, won't you?" he said.

            Philby walked forward and snatched Harry's wand from him.  Guy Burgess threw the girl back to her father, who embraced her.  "That's right, Harry.  You're getting better by the second."

            "What the hell do you want from me?"

            The eight intruders laughed shortly.  

            "Oh, ho, yeah that's a funny question," Harry snapped back.  "Goons like you are always easily amused."

            Guy Burgess seemed interested in Harry's remark.  He looked back at Kim and nodded.  Harry didn't like the way they stared.

            "We're here to play a little game," Lucius said.  He walked closer to Harry.  "The 'I wonder what the great Potter would do for strangers' game.  We have all these prominent wizards here in Hogwarts, awaiting their execution."

            A gasp ran through the group; Harry didn't blink.  

            "Of course some of them," Lucius continued as he laid his eyes on Hermione and Ron, "aren't strangers at all.  We'll save them for last," he whispered.  While staring into Harry's eyes, he snapped his fingers.  Two of his men extracted Hermione and Ron from the group and held them at bay.  "And Dumbledore," he said, raising his glance from Harry to the great wizard.  "How nice to find you in such a bind.  You're getting old now, aren't you?  We'll deal with you as well."  Two men grabbed him and took him to stand by Hermione and Ron.  They took Dumbledore's wand and cast it to Philby.

            "What do you want?" Harry repeated with his teeth clenched.

            "Temper, Harry," he warned, wagging his finger at him.  "I already told you.  We're going to play a little game.  You have always had the weakness to care too much about others instead of yourself.  I thought that would change over the years.  I thought you would pick up selfishness like you did smoking.  I thought you would draw it in through your lungs like air.  I thought you would become dependent upon it.  It should have been another habit acquired from your great sufferings."  He reached out and touched Harry's forehead, pulling back his bangs, while the other hand grasped around his neck.  "Pity, isn't it?  The Dark Lord is gone, the traces of him as well, but his mark on you was more than physical, wasn't it?"

            Harry didn't even try to push Malfoy off of him.  He squinted into Lucius's eyes and dug his teeth into his lower lip.  Lucius released him and took a step back.  He chuckled softly to himself and shook his head.

            "Of course he had it wrong from the start.  If you were the only one who could slay him, and you proved that correctly, congratulations by the way, then it was foolish of him to make you his enemy.  I thought he should have stolen you and raised you as his own.  But, what's done is done.  He is gone forever; you vanquished him.  You saved the world."  He looked pleased about something. Very pleased.  Harry's eyes followed his every movement.

            "You know I'm much more powerful than you are, Lucius," Harry said.  "You know what I'm capable of," he said, raising a corner of his mouth.

            Lucius grinned in return.  "Yes," he answered.  "I know that you are, shall we say, equipped with great powers?  I know exactly what you can do.  But do you know, Harry, of what I can do?"  He laughed again as he saw Harry's mouth drop.  "It's impossible to enter Hogwarts except through the doors.  But we have entered."  He walked fast to Harry and whispered, "Just like Azkaban.  Baffled, aren't you?"

            "So how did you do it?" Harry asked.

            "I'm not giving that away just yet.  Stick around though.  You'll figure out the answers.  Time waits for no man, Harry, not even you with all your power.  So let's get down to it.  The introductions should go first.  This is my former Death Eating partner, Guy Burgess.  I'm sure you know the highlights from the file you read.  And on my left is the oh-so-secretive Kim Philby, partly responsible for the destruction of one of the world's foremost Intelligence agencies.  They're from the Dark Lord's first reign of power.  The three of us are the new additions to the Black Order.  You've been working hard to learn about us.  Well, here we are."

            "But no Draco, eh?" Harry said.  He started to pace, looking at the hostages, the men surrounding them, his friends.  "He sends his love, though."

            "Draco will be rewarded," Lucius said.  "His sacrifice has empowered us.  Sacrifices have a tendency to lead to even greater power, don't they?"

            "Sure," Harry said.  The wall surrounding the hostages was one he had never seen.  It was completely invisible, but Harry couldn't penetrate it.  And they all looked at him, Harry, like he wasn't real.  He wondered if they could hear what was happening.  He could see Snape staring at him with real confusion, and Arthur in the exact same way.  Harry tried waving to them, but neither of them blinked.

            "Mysterious, isn't it?"

            Harry turned back around to look upon Lucius.  "Yes," he admitted.  "How are you doing it?"

            "Let's just say that all magic has a source of some kind.  That's where it comes from.  Our power, you see, exceeds yours."

            Harry shook his head, turned back towards the shield, and held his palms to it, closing his eyes.  He concentrated hard on breaking it.  As he opened his glowing eyes, he saw he was having no effect.  The shield only vibrated, as if made of thick water.  Harry kept trying but now a sharp pain was circulating through him.  He pulled back, his eyes resuming their normal shade.

            He heard the Black Order laughing.  He felt the heat rise in his face, his knuckles tighten, and his eyes were beginning to burn.  He glanced over at Dumbledore.  He looked very peaceful, as if nothing was wrong.  Was he, Harry, the only one who knew what was happening?

            They kept laughing at him. They wouldn't stop!  Harry whirled around and thrust his palms up towards Malfoy, expelling a vortex-like force from them.  But Lucius raised his hand calmly and Harry's force was absorbed in Malfoy's hand.  Harry dropped his arms, feeling quite crestfallen.  

            "I told you I have new powers now.  Are you done experimenting?  I would really like to get going.  We have much better things we could be doing, you know."

            Harry heard himself breathing hard, as if he was already tired.  He saw Malfoy touch something in his pocket, and then he stared at Harry again.  "The spell which is binding them is quite handy.  At anytime I can wipe their memories and replace them with whatever my heart desires.  They can't see you; I know you've been wondering.  But," he said, waving his wand at the wall, "now they can."

            Harry looked once more at their faces.  

            Snape was glaring at him.  He was giving him the look of complete loathing; the same look he had when Harry had just been released from Snape's pensieve.  Arthur Weasley was staring at him with a mixture of regret, sadness, but mostly anger.  Harry looked to see Fred and George who looked gratefully at Harry.  Remus looked proud, yet sad; Tonks was smiling at him.  But all the others had the same look; the look of adoration.

            "Wonderful spell, isn't it?" Lucius said.

            Harry didn't answer.  He was staring at Arthur.  Harry felt his eyes burning even more as he stared at that face.  Harry knew what the spell did now.

            "It shows how they really feel about you," Malfoy answered for him.  "I'm glad to see that old Severus forgets to wear his mask.  He hates you most of all... save Weasley.  That is a surprise.  No, wait...  You're the reason his wife is dead, isn't that right?" he asked.  Harry could tell by his tone that Lucius was grinning.  Harry kept staring at Arthur; he was getting angrier with Harry, vexed, livid.  Harry broke away.

            "I never knew it would be this fun," he said, laughing with his other Order members.  "Dumbledore seems to adore you like the rest, isn't that sweet?"

            Harry saw that Dumbledore looked down upon him like a son.  Ron's look was hard to distinguish, but Harry felt that he knew what it was.  Hermione had an expression Harry had never seen her wear. 

            "Now, about our game," Lucius went on.  "Shall we get on with it?"

            Harry barely had time to turn around.  Malfoy had removed the spell from the group.  They all seemed to know what was going on now.  Their faces read fear.  They started to cry and shiver.  

            Burgess and Philby walked forward and took hold of a family of three; a mother, a father, and a young boy with dark hair.  They pulled the family forward.  The mother was clasping onto her son very tightly, while the father looked protective and brave, without fear.

            "They're perfect, aren't they?" Lucius said to Harry.

            "Please," the mother whimpered, "please don't hurt us."

            "Now, Harry," Lucius began, ignoring the woman.  "Who gets to die?"

            Harry snapped his head around.  "What?" he asked breathlessly.

            "You heard me.  I'll give you to the count of ten.  Try to think of who you wanted most when you were young.  Of course," he said with a chuckle, "even when you did acquire substitutes, they too died at our hands.  One," he began.  "Two."

            Harry looked at their faces.  The father and mother were protecting their son.  The mother was in hysterics pleading for her son's life.  The father stood protecting both of them.

            "Seven," Lucius counted on.

            Harry couldn't do this.  He couldn't chose which one would be slain, like an animal.

            "Ten," he completed.  "Well, Harry?  Mother, father, or little Billy?"

            "No one!" Harry shouted.  "You can't kill them!"

            "But I can.  You won't decide?" he asked, simpering.  "Tsk, tsk, Harry.  I guess I will have to do it for you.  They say there is nothing more horrible than the loss of a child.  Parents want to die before their children.  So let's go that way."

            The mother screamed and the father stepped forward.  But Burgess, with the wave of his wand, blew the parents away like they were flies.  The boy stood alone, crying and shaking.  Lucius lowered his wand at him and started to utter those horrible words.  

            Harry ran forward and pushed Malfoy's hand towards the ceiling just as the spell was shot.  One of the rafters of the Great Hall was temporarily in flame.  

            Malfoy didn't look disappointed at all, though, when Harry saw his face.  He looked pleased, like he wanted Harry to stop him.  

            He grabbed Harry by the wrists and threw him back.

            "I thought the great Harry Potter had powers beyond any wizard?  What is this, then?  Have I just put him on the ground?"  He walked over and pushed his foot on Harry's chest.  Harry couldn't throw him off.  He didn't understand.  He could do better than this!  Harry closed his eyes again and tried to remember what Dumbledore had trained him to do.  _Anger is weak.  Let go of your anger and embrace your own power, Harry._  He slammed his fists on the ground and pulled himself up with ease.  Malfoy was thrown from him.

            Some of the hostages applauded him.  He could hear Fred and George telling him to kick ass.  Burgess, Philby, Malfoy, and the other members of the Black Order were not laughing this time.  Harry grinned and raised his hands in a martial arts motion.

            "You broke my little rule," Malfoy said.

            "I'm afraid that has always been a habit of mine, rule breaking."

            "Yes, that's how Black died, wasn't it?  You didn't obey your orders.  Well this time there's a similar consequence.  I will spare the family of three, but I'll have to replace the murder with someone you do care about.  Perhaps one of the Weasley twins?"

            Fred was pulled from the crowd, no longer looking confident that Harry could kick ass.

            "Don't," Harry said, walking forward.

            "No?" Malfoy said.  "I'm not going to chose Weasley Senior.  It would be much more fun if you were responsible for his wife's death and one of his sons.  He has six, Harry; one can't be too much of a loss."

            "Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, looking at Fred.  

            "I told you.  It's our little game.  You were thirsty for knowledge about our Order, weren't you?  You wanted to know about us?  You were in charge of most of it, the search, that is.  The entire Auror department was onto it.  They worked hard to find little bits of information.  Look around you, Potter.  We're all here.  This is what you wanted to find."

            Harry shook his head and glanced at Fred.  He looked determined now.  Harry stared at him and nodded.

            "I think Weasley twin number one can pay for your heroics tonight," Malfoy continued.  He pointed his wand at Fred, who didn't flinch, and started to speak the curse.

            Harry leapt straight up into the air, high, and kicked as hard as he could at Malfoy's head.  Malfoy let out a grunt of pain and fell to the ground.  Harry hit the floor, but crouched down.  He spread his arms out.  Beams, like lightning, spewed forth from his finger tips and struck Burgess and Philby, sending them flying a good fifteen feet in either direction.  Harry got up and shoved Fred back into the crowd, then ran at an oncoming Black Order member.  Harry jumped over him then sent him flying with the flick of his wrist; he landed on top of Burgess.  Harry ran at another one.  He was quite ugly and troll-like, but Harry didn't stare for long.  He punched his jaw, broke his wrist, then spun around and kicked him with such force that he flew out a window, crashing into the glass.  

            "Stupefy!" one of them yelled at Harry, pointing his wand.  But Harry ducked and with a gesture of his hand, the man's wand was now in Harry's hand.

            "Oops," Harry said to him.  The man's eyes widened and he ran.  Harry chased after him, issuing spells from the wand.  He struck; the man fell.

            "Harry, look out!" Hermione yelled.  He spun around to see three coming after him.  Harry ducked the wand away in his pocket and ran up after them.  He jumped on top of the staff table and vaulted off of it, sailing over his attackers' heads.  He landed swiftly like a cat and swaggered over to Malfoy, pointing the wand at his chest.  His free hand held the three assailants at bay with his magic.

            "Now what, Malfoy?" Harry asked, unable to keep his grin inside.

            Lucius smiled.  "Impressive.  Dumbledore has taught you well."  He nodded then bent his head down and shut his eyes, as if meditating.  Harry was confused; why was he letting down his guard?

            Burgess and Philby got up and walked toward Malfoy again, looking far more agitated than before.  They had their wands at the ready, pointed at Harry.  But Harry didn't have another hand to stable them.  He wished Dumbledore could break through the barrier and help him.

            Burgess stared at Harry in a way very reminiscent of Snape.  He looked to Malfoy, whose eyes were still sealed shut.

            "What now, Lucius?"

            Malfoy's eyes popped open and he grinned.  Now all eight Black Order members surrounded Harry, wands pointed at him.  The crowd of hostages was still trapped behind the barrier, but they were silent with anticipation.

            "Game over," Malfoy spoke with pleasure.  They formed a circle around Harry, lowering their wands.  "And now you learn what of what I came for," he said to Harry.  

            Four of the Black Order rushed Harry and seized him, holding on tight.  They were too strong now; he didn't know why.  They were holding him back, but at the same time pushing him down so he couldn't kick anyone.  The wand he held fell to the ground with a clatter.  Harry tried pushing away, tried throwing them off, but he could hardly move.  He didn't understand.  He had taken four people at once before, why were _they_ stronger than him?

            Lucius walked forward with a malevolent grin.  "I came for..." he said, pulling something from his pocket.  He hauled it high into the air; Harry saw it gleam gold in the light, but briefly.  Lucius bit his lip; the wrinkles above his eyes became violent.  He thrust the object he held into Harry's chest, plunging it into his heart.

            Harry let out a chocked cry.  His eyes widened in shock and terrible pain.  Lucius laughed; his eyes over bright.  He bent his head down to Harry's ear and whispered, "...the heart of a lion!"

He kissed Harry's forehead and twist the knife.  Harry let out another cry; this one was barely audible, even to his own ears.  He didn't feel the Black Order let go of him, but he saw them get smaller as they backed away.  He fell to the ground.  His feet were locked under his knees— he heard his legs give an excruciating _snap_.

            His vision was becoming cloudy as he labored to breathe.  But it was sharp; it was cold.  He lift his head a little, his eyes blurred with tears of pain.  A golden grip inscribed with writing, embedded with jewels, was protruding from his chest.  He couldn't see the blade.  Blood was pooling around the golden handle, spreading, bleeding into his clothes.  Harry couldn't hold his head anymore.  It hit the stone floor.

            Figures were all around him now.  A girl in blue dress, someone with red hair, a man with a long white beard; his friends.  He wanted to smile at them.

            "Harry," Hermione said distantly.  He could almost hear her.  He felt her touching his face; her hand was shaking. 

            He was struggling to breathe now, it hurt too much.  His eyes were starting to close.  He saw more blurred shapes, faces, looking down at him.  Hermione pushed back his lids to keep his eyes open; he wished she wouldn't.  Dumbledore grabbed his hand and yelled something, but Harry couldn't make it out.

            Everything was turning red and dark.  The shapes and faces were going away.  He could feel something coming out of his mouth, something warm and thick.  Big black spots must be covering his eyes, for that's all he could see.  They huddled together now, it was all black.  It was completely black.


	4. Florence Nightingale

Chapter Four: Florence Nightingale  
  


He felt himself falling. He fell for a long time. Having a broomstick would be nice; it would stop him from falling. And so it was. He was on his Firebolt. He flew up toward what he supposed was the sky. Suddenly, the green grass appeared. He was looking at Hogwarts. He vaulted off his broom and ran to it, ran inside the castle, and ran to Gryffindor tower where his friends were.

"You can't come in here without the password," the Fat Lady told him.

"But I am Harry Potter," he explained. "I have saved the world."

"Oh," the Fat Lady replied. "Oh, well, in that case..." she swung on her hinges and let him walk inside. The common room looked like it always had except now he was alone. None of his other Gryffindor classmates had died. He, Harry, must be dead, for that is why he is alone. He wanted to sleep; he was tired. He ran up to his dorm room and opened the door.

Only there were no beds in the room- why, this wasn't Gryffindor tower at all. It was a house, or something like a house. The walls were made of redwood planks and there were portraits of faceless people mounted on the walls. When he looked down the hallway, he noticed that several doors were here. Some of them had light underneath, like there were people inside. He walked a little ways when he heard something running behind him. He turned around. 

It was a thestral... no, it was a lion. A skeletal lion with a human heart beating inside of it. His heart. The lion was charging him. Harry turned to speed down the hall. A door was open just ahead. If he could get there before the lion got him, he might make into heaven. Surely this was a race. He could hear the lion's claws hit the floor, tapping the floor. The noise was right behind him, but the door was within his reach.

He pushed the door open, slid inside, and slammed it behind him. He couldn't hear the lion anymore. But Harry wasn't alone in this place; someone in here was breathing and it wasn't him. He whirled around.

A tall man with shiny black hair stood before him. His hair fell casually into his face in a way Harry's would never have done. He had warm brown eyes, like a sweet honey, which were crinkled into a grin. His face showed pride and happiness. His eyes were moist, but he was happy, Harry was sure of that.

"Hello, Harry," the man gently said with a nod of his head.

"Sirius?" Harry asked breathlessly. He could hear his voice cracking and could feel tears in his eyes. "_Sirius_?"

Sirius laughed and swept his hair out of his eyes. He looked better than Harry had ever seen him. Harry imagined this is how he would look if he had never gone to Azkaban or never died. "Fancy seeing you here, Harry," he said. He walked from behind a desk and approached him. "Don't tell me you can't give your dear old godfather a hug?" he said as he stretched out his arms.

Harry's eyes were now full of tears, but he shook his head. He walked toward Sirius and hugged him, resting his forehead on Sirius's shoulders. Sirius patted his back and ruffled his hair.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius," Harry cried. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," he replied with a jovial laugh, "what's to be sorry about? You've done nothing wrong." He pulled Harry back and held his shoulders. "You've done nothing wrong."

"But you're-" Harry began.

"I'm here to see you. I've missed you so much, Harry. But we've been watching you all along. We are so proud of you. You have done such great things with your life."

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes. "Sirius, am I dead? Am I dead like you?"

Sirius smiled but shook his head. "No. You're not dead at all. You came very close, dangerously close, but you're going to be fine. They are taking care of you out there."

"Who?" Harry asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The Healers and your friends. They have made you better. They have taken it out and given you a new one."

Harry shook his head at Sirius. "Taken out what and given me what? Sirius, I don't understand what you mean."

Sirius put his hand over Harry's heart. "They took it out and gave you a new one."

Harry looked down at his chest where Sirius had his hand. "My heart? They took it out of me?" 

"And given you a new one," Sirius said. "They're saying you will be fine. You're going to survive. Hermione, Ron, his brothers and sister, and Dumbledore are all relieved. They've been waiting all night and Christmas day to hear about your health. They've been worried so much. The Healers put them in a waiting room. You're in a special room all by yourself now. I expect they will come and wait by your bedside until you wake up."

"Why did he stab me, Sirius?" Harry asked. "Why did he take my heart away from me?"

Sirius frowned a little but not in a cruel way; he was thinking. "Because that is where you get your power."

"What do you mean? Doesn't everyone get their power from their heart? Why did he take mine?"

"Everyone gets blood from their heart, if that's what you mean. No one can survive without it. But your heart, metaphorically speaking, is the source of your great power. Your magic. It's what saved you over time. They took it from you to be truculent. There's no other reason. Your new heart will be just as good, but it is not the one you were born with. They just wanted to be cruel to you, to get your attention and respect."

Harry stared at Sirius and grinned. "I've missed you so much," he said.

Sirius returned the beaming grin. "I know. That is why you picked me to talk to. I'm honored that you did. But we can't stay and chat forever. You know that, don't you? You'll have to go back to them, to your world, and save them again. Something evil is lurking about. You are the only one who can save them and keep them safe. You have to go back as soon as you can." Sirius watched Harry closely as if preparing the answer to Harry's next question.

"But who, Sirius? Who is trying to do this to me?"

"I can't tell you that. I can only give you hints, Harry; I have to keep to the rules."

"So what are they? What's your hint?"

Sirius sat down on the desktop and folded his arms. "Never stop loving people," he said. "I know it sounds corny and mushy, but don't. I know what you try to do out there, we all know. You pretend like you don't care about them. You shrug them off and treat them badly. But we know that you really love them and would do anything for them. But make sure they know it, Harry. They can't tell sometimes."

"How is that a hint?" Harry asked.

Sirius barked a great laugh. Harry smiled. He liked Sirius's laugh, it made him happy again. "You get two more hints. You're smart, so you have probably guessed that already."

"Why aren't they here to see me?" Harry asked.

"Because you chose me," Sirius responded. "They understand. They want me to tell you how proud they are. She says you're even better looking that James is. She thinks it's her eyes."

Harry felt himself crying again.

"He says, 'Watch your back.' He can't be more specific, but it's good advice." He smiled again. "There is no need to weep, Harry. We are always with you. Can't you feel us?"

Harry sniffed and shook his head.

"We're the wind in your face. You always liked that. You still like it."

Harry wiped his face again. "What does Mum have to say?" he asked, his voice quavering.

Sirius nodded and kept on grinning. "I agree with her on this. She says that she likes Hermione."

Harry frowned. "How is that advice?" he asked.

"We have to be vague, it's a rule. You have to figure it out for yourself. I'm confident that you will." Sirius looked up at the ceiling. "She is with you." 

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Hermione. She is reading to you. I think you should wake up now; it would make her very happy. It has been a few days now and you have rested. You should wake."

"But I don't want to say goodbye," Harry said, shaking his head. "Why did you have to leave me, Sirius? Why did you go?"

"Oh, Harry," Sirius said as he stood from the desk. "Everyone has a time to go. I had to. It prepared you for your task. It gave you insight into who you were. You learned that you had the power to rid him from the world. And it was simply my time. I promise you will see all of us again, but not today. Today you're going to wake up and go back. Are you ready?"

Harry shook his head, but Sirius didn't seem to care. He hugged Harry again. "Remember that I'm proud of you. You can do this. It will be hard, very hard, but we know you will do the right thing again. You have a good heart, Harry. No matter how much you mask over it, I know and you know that you care about them, all of them. You were meant to care for them. You were put on earth to counter the evil with your heart. Remember that. They can hurt you in more ways than one, but you will always care for them. Now," he said, patting Harry's shoulder, "it's time for you to wake up. Go on," he said with a smile, "wake up."

Harry wasn't sure how to do what Sirius commanded. He closed his eyes to think it over. When he opened them, though, Sirius was gone. 

Harry was looking at a ceiling now, a white one. There were strange colored dots on it. Then he realized that what he saw was very blurry. His glasses had been removed.

His head seemed really heavy, like a cannon ball or something. There was a strange bitter taste in his mouth. A voice was swimming toward him. She sounded lovely, like an angel. He called out to her, but not even he recognized the sound that came out.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. It was cool, pleasantly cool, not cold. He suddenly realized that he was rather hot. Her cool hand felt refreshing. He turned his head toward her, but he only saw a blurry image. She put on his glasses.

It was Hermione, just as Sirius had said. And she had a book lying on his bed; she had been reading to him. He looked into her kind face. Her eyes were tired and puffy; the corners were pink with sadness and worry. Her hair looked unkempt, her nails chewed, and the ends of her hair were split.

"Hermione," he said weakly, smiling.

She beamed at him. "Harry," she replied. It seemed like it was taking all of her strength not to jump on the bed and hug him.

"Hello, Hermione," he said in the same drowsy voice. 

She giggled with relief. "Hello, Harry. How do you feel?"

"Tired," he said truthfully. "How do you feel?" His head felt really light now, and his tongue seemed heavy as he spoke to her.

"I feel better now that you're awake," she said. She kissed his hand.

"Ah," he said with a grin. "You kissed me."

She laughed and got closer to him. She put his hand on her face and kissed it again. He moved his finger so it caught her hair. "I think you have a crush on me," he said. He thought he sounded funny; like he was drunk. "All this kissing."

"Do you know where you are?" she asked, caressing his face.

"In bed. With you." Harry laughed a silly laugh. "I'm in bed with you." He laughed some more and shut his eyes. He felt he could do with some more sleep. He could felt Hermione kiss his cheek. "More kissing," he whispered with his eyes closed. He opened them again and tried lifting his head, but he couldn't.

"No, no," Hermione warned, laying a hand across his forehead. "Not yet. You're not ready for that just now. You have to relax. I'm going to tell the Healer and the others that you're awake. Okay?"

"Okee dokee," Harry replied. "Bye-bye." Hermione squeezed his hand then walked out. He thought they must have put a cheering charm on him, for he felt very friendly and joyful. Or it was because they had doped him up with enough pain potions to fill Snape's dungeon. Harry didn't really care what the reason was.

Hermione came back in with a whole group of people Harry knew and one he didn't know. "Wow," he said with his dopey grin.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" a wizard in lime green robes asked. He was writing on a clipboard as he examined him.

"I'm not really sure," he replied, looking around at all the people. A red haired woman sat on his left side and took his hand. He turned to look at her. "Ginny!" he said happily. "How was your Christmas?"

She gave him a funny look but smiled. "We spent it with you. Don't you remember the accident?" She looked around at the others then back at Harry.

"Accident?" Harry whispered to himself. "I remember Malfoy stabbing me in the heart with that pretty knife. I don't remember any accident, though. What happened?"

"No," he heard Ron say, "that was the accident, mate. We rushed you to the hospital as soon as we could. You've been out of it for three days."

"Ron!" Harry replied with a grin. "It's really great to see you. How was your Christmas?"

Now they all began to laugh. The Healer walked over to his side and examined his chart. "I think we can lower the dosage a bit."

"Why?" said Fred. "He hasn't been this pleasant in years." People laughed again, including Harry, though he didn't really know why.

"Yeah," said George, "maybe you can lace his veins with this stuff. Keep him like this full time. How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked.

"I dunno. Did I sleep through Christmas?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, who was wearing a kind smile.

"Dumbly-dore," Harry laughed. "Get it? Dumbly-dore," he said to Hermione on his right. "That's what Madam Maxine called him." He started laughing at his own joke.

"You're falling a little behind, Harry," Lupin said. "Does he need to sleep some of this off?" he asked the Healer.

The Healer bent down and raised Harry's eyelids and took a good look. "What do you see?" Harry whispered.

"No," the Healer said. "It'll wear off in a while. You can stay with him if you wish. I'll tell him about the procedure when he's more alert and aware." He turned back to Harry. "Do you know where you are?"

Harry swallowed. "I'm here," he said feebly.

"Yes," the Healer replied with a chortle. "Do you know where here is?"

"In bed," he replied. Hermione bent forward to look in his eyes.

"You're in St. Mungo's. The Wizard hospital, remember?"

Harry's eyes opened in surprise. "Oh," he said. "Yeah. Am I in the same room as Mr. Weasley was that one Christmas? Wouldn't that be funny?" he asked.

The Healer clapped Harry's shoulder then pushed his way through the crowd and left. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and conjured chairs for the people who were standing. Lupin came and sat closer to Harry.

"Lupin, Lupin, Lupin," Harry said. "Guess who I just saw?" he said drunkenly. "You'll never guess."

Lupin smiled. He looked tired and worn, but happy. "Who did you see?"

Harry beamed. "Sirius," he said, nodding his head. "He looks great now. He said I chose to talk to him. He didn't have a message for you, though," he said, frowning slightly. "He could have at least said hello to you. He told me to never stop loving people. Isn't that nice? Never stop loving people." He laughed again.

Lupin blushed and smiled at everyone else. "You sure you don't want to sleep a little more?" Ginny asked. "You're acting a little strange."

"Sleep?" he said. "Yeah, maybe. I'm very tired. I slept for three days straight, you know." he told them.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, squeezing Harry's shoulder, "we know. You were very brave. We saw what you did and it was very brave."

Harry tried thinking of what Dumbledore could possibly mean. Instead he thought of what Sirius had told him; the messages from his parents.

"How's my back? Is there someone back there?" he asked. They looked very confused by his question. "I'm supposed to watch my back. That's what he wanted to say to me. Probably because he didn't put that in his letter."

"I think we should let you relax a little more," Lupin said. "You're not making a whole lot of sense." He started to get up and the others seemed to think it was a good idea. Ginny and Hermione were still holding his hands. He didn't let them go.

"Stay with me," he said to Hermione. He turned his head to the left to face Ginny. "Stay with me," he repeated. "I don't want to be alone."

"We'll stay," Hermione said. She exchanged a big grin with Ginny. Harry smiled again and pulled both of the hands to his lips, kissing one then the other. Ginny giggled.

"You had a big crush on me once," he said to her.

"I know I did," she said. "It was very silly of me. I was young and obsessive. You were pretty cute, though."

Harry laughed. He turned over to look at Hermione. "Do you think I'm cute?" he asked. He heard Ginny laughing again and Hermione smiled. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Sure I do. But maybe you should try sleeping a little more. I think you're very tired. So why don't you shut your eyes and go to sleep," she whispered. "We'll be here with you."

"I don't know what you're thinking," he said, shaking her hand. 

"I think you're tired." She started to rub his arm. "Try going to sleep."

He swallowed and shut his eyes. "Okay," he sighed. "See you in the morning time."

"Goodnight," Ginny said.

He was drifting off, he could feel it. Then Hermione laid her head by his. "I love you, Harry," she whispered.

He smiled but didn't open his eyes. "I love you back, Hermione." And he fell asleep.

He awoke hours later, or he felt like he had slept for hours. When he opened his eyes this time his head felt close to normal. His body was a little sore, especially around the chest, but over all he wasn't too bad. He went to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but a head was resting on each arm. He pulled out his right hand from underneath Hermione's sleeping face and rubbed his eyes and face.

"How do I raise the top of this thing?" he said to himself, looking around the bed. "I don't want to lay flat anymore," he continued. He sat up, pulling the other arm from under Ginny, and continued to look for some kind of button that would raise the head of his bed. "Bingo," he said. He pushed it and the bed rose.

Ginny began to stir. She yawned and stretched her entire body. "Oh," she said, looking at Harry with her eyes half open, "you're awake again."

"Yeah," he said. 

"But the potion has worn off," she sighed. Harry thought she sounded a little disappointed. He nodded to her then took a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from Hermione. He opened it and read the headline. **Hogwarts Infiltrated: Harry Potter nearly Murdered**.

"Subtle," Harry said. 

"It tells a pretty accurate description of what happened. At least that's what Fred told me."

But Harry disagreed. He read the article twice, three times, four times... how could they have mistaken so much? Harry frowned at the article then flipped the pages of the paper.

"There weren't any attacks while you were sleeping," she told him. 

"Ginny," he said, reading the article again, "this is wrong. It says eight men came in through the doors and round everyone into a large group. But that's not what happened. Then it says a masked man took hostages and threatened their lives. Part of that's true. But none of them were masked. They took their masks off. It was Malfoy, Guy Burgess and Kim Philby who lead this attack. They said they were playing a game." He looked up at Ginny, but she looked ashen.

"That's not what Fred told me."

"They didn't come in through the doors," Harry said. "They... sliced their way in, through the air. That's how they got into Azkaban. Malfoy told me that."

"Harry, that's not what happened," she insisted. "They took hostages and made some demands. They were threatening to kill a little boy and you stopped them. They got angry with you and went after you. You did some really cool maneuvers, according to Fred, and then cornered them off. You threatened the lead guy. Then he said something about you, then he..." she cut herself short. "The paper is right."

Harry shook his head. That wasn't what happened, not at all. Surely Dumbledore would remember, and Lupin. Lupin would get the facts straight.

"Where is everyone?" he asked. "Where have they all gone?"

Ginny stood up, gave him a peculiar look, then left to go get the others. Hermione woke up just after Ginny's departure. Harry berated her with questions about what she saw. He asked her about the article and about what happened, but she repeated Ginny's story. She insisted she saw something completely different than he had.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right? You shouldn't get yourself worked up like this," she said. "The Healer will tell you to calm down when he comes in. You need to relax."

"But-" he said.

"No," she told him, yanking the paper from his hand. "You had a heart transplant. You need to relax or you'll hurt yourself."

The Healer came in with Ginny and Dumbledore. "You're looking good," he told Harry. "Let's check and see if the scars have healed. Just relax and lay back," he said. He put the head of Harry's bed down.

"I can't relax," Harry said. "They're out there."

"You can deal with them when I say you can go. The sooner you cooperate the sooner you can leave." Harry sighed and did as he was told. The Healer unbuttoned Harry's gown to examine his chest. There was a large, white, square bandage over the area in question. Harry looked down at it. "We didn't know that we would be able to save you," the Healer mumbled as he lifted the bandage. "It's a miracle that you survived the journey here." He placed the used bandage on a tray and started touching Harry's skin. There was nothing there but skin.

"We did a good job," he said. "No scars. You're all healed up and good to go."

"What did you do?" Harry asked.

"It was a lot of work. When they brought you in, you looked dead. We slowed down all of your bodily functions, opened you up, and took out the knife and your heart. The nurses kept you on life support manually, until we could fasten you a new one."

"How does that work?" he asked.

"We simply make a copy, with magic, of your old one and make a new one. Technically the one you have now is yours. It's an exact replica down to the last mitochondria, except you weren't born with this one."

Harry touched his chest; he could feel the heart beating like normal. "So you cloned it?"

"Pardon me?" the Healer said.

"Nothing. Why couldn't you just repair it? I mean, why a whole new one? How big was the blade?"

"It was a magical knife. It nearly liquified your heart. It was slowly deteriorating from the gash in. The blade was a normal size, but it was twisted. Whoever stabbed you twisted the blade while it was inside. Like I said, it's a miracle you survived."

A quick version of the experience flashed before his mind. He shut his eyes tight and shook his head; he didn't want to relive it. He buttoned up his gown and sat up. "Now what?"

Everyone looked at him, then at Hermione. The Healer spoke first. "You'll need to take it easy for about a week. I'll have you in after that for a check-up. I've already spoken with the Minister of Magic about your sick leave. I don't want you working, riding your motorcycle, or smoking for a week. End of story."

"But if this is my heart, what's the big deal?"

"It's yours, but your body has suffered severe trauma. Both of your legs were broken, as were your ankles, and we've fastened you with a new and most important organ. Magic can't solve everything. Your body needs time to catch up and relax."

"But I have work to do. I have to catch these wizards," he explained.

"It can wait. You'll find that if you over exert yourself you'll tire very quickly. You'll be no match for them. I've given your caretaker all the potions you'll need and the instructions that go with them."

"I'm not sure how good Dobby is with potions," Harry said. "I'm sure I'll be fine taking them on my own."

"I didn't give them to the house elf," the Healer said.

Harry scratched his head. "Who then?"

"Me," said Hermione. "He gave them to me."

"What?" said Harry, laughing now. "You can't be serious. I'll be fine. I don't need anyone looking after me."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We knew you would say that. You will live in Hermione's home for a week. We have moved some of your belongings there already. She agreed to do this because you require it."

"She volunteered," said Ron who came into view suddenly.

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms. "That's right," she said.

"But I'll be fine on my own. You're busy with work and Spew. I'll be a burden to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"That's what I said," Harry grinned, "spew."

Ron laughed and Hermione smiled. "You're still living with me," she told him.

"I'll be fine by myself," Harry insisted. 

"We don't have that much trust for you," Dumbledore said with a kind grin. "We are afraid that you will go out on some wild crusade searching for the men who did this to you. Hermione will be able to keep you under control until you are ready. You need to live with her for one week so she can take care of you."

"But-"

"You either stay with her," Dumbledore said, "or you stay here for the week. The choice is yours and yours alone."

Harry made an indignant choking sound and crossed his arms. "I'm being treated like a child," he mumbled. "I can take care of myself better than anyone here."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, patting Harry on the back, "so you've said time and again. Here or with Hermione?"

"Gee that's a tough one," he said, tapping his chin. "Hmmm... horrible hospital, or with my best friend...?"

Hermione beamed and looked superiorly at the others. "Good," she said to him. "Now get ready to go," she said bossily. "Oh wait. You are ready..."

"Is there anything else we can do before you leave? Any questions?" the Healer asked.

"Yes," Harry said raising his finger. "Can I have the knife?" Everyone looked at him with wary faces. "I know it sounds morbid, but I would like to have it back. I can stab whoever did this back with it. Stop staring!" he said. "Could you just bring it to me?"

"Sure," the Healer said. He left the room. Harry flopped his stiff legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He grasped onto the bed rail for support, though Hermione and Ron were waiting to catch him should he fall. 

"I'm good," he said to them. "Uh, does anyone have my clothes? I'm not going anywhere in these things."

"Yeah," said Hermione, pulling a paper bag from the floor. "Here you go. And Dobby was really worried about you, so he made you a pair of socks."

Harry reached inside the bag and pulled out two different socks. One was light yellow with tiny dots of navy blue, while the other was dark blue with tiny dots of yellow. Harry knew Dobby was trying to replicate the colors of Harry's Auror ring.

"He's so fond of you," Hermione said. "Anyways, you had better get dressed so we can go. Everyone out," she said, ushering the others toward the door. Dumbledore was firm on staying behind. "All right, everyone but Professor Dumbledore should leave." The door shut, Hermione was still pushing people away.

"Listen to Hermione," Dumbledore whispered. "I have told her that she is to inform me if you are out of line."

"Like I'm a stupid kid, huh?" Harry asked angrily. "Maybe I have said it too many times, but I can handle myself just fine. I certainly don't need a private nurse slash friend taking care of me when I am capable of doing that alone. I'm fine, okay?"

"You're not fine. You've sustained-"

"I know what I've sustained! I was there! And thanks to you for all the help you gave me when Malfoy and the rest of the Black Order nearly killed me. Didn't you see that I couldn't move?"

"We tried to get to you, Harry," Dumbledore explained calmly. "We tried everything we could, but nothing worked. As soon as those men ran out, the binding spell was broken and we_could_ get to you. I made a portkey and brought you here as fast as I could. You really have no idea how worried everyone was. Hermione stayed with you whenever she was allowed, as did Ron. It would be wise of you to do as Hermione asks. She cares a great deal for you. She offered to take care of you when the Healer said you would need it. Now, get dressed and let her take you home." Dumbledore squeezed Harry's shoulder and sauntered out of the room.

Harry mumbled to himself as he ripped off his hospital clothes and dressed in his own. When he was ready, he strolled out of his room to find Ron and Hermione in waiting. Ron was clutching a copy of _The_ _Daily Prophet_ and Hermione was holding- 

"A wheelchair? You have got to be kidding me. I can walk just fine, thanks."

"Sit down," she said kindly.

"No way. I'm walking out of here," he protested.

"Sit down before I knock you down," she said dangerously, shaking the wheelchair.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. "You're going to knock me down, huh? Okay, Hermione," he said lightly, "I'll sit in the chair for you. You sure scared me. Phew, I'm so glad you didn't knock me down." He sat down and made a face at her.

"He's going to be a handful," Ron said with a smirk. "I'd love to drop kick you when you're feeling better, Harry."

"You couldn't drop kick me now," Harry laughed. "Who do you think you're kidding?" He looked up at Hermione and gave her a very toothy fake smile. "Take me away!"

Hermione pushed him along the corridor and out of the hospital. 

Because Harry wasn't allowed to Apparate for a week, the three of them took the Knight Bus to Hermione's small house. After the usual bumpy ride, Hermione and Ron assisted Harry out of the bus; he complained in a loud whisper.

"You've been here before, right?" she asked as she wheeled him into her home. Harry stepped out of the wheel chair and walked around. Hermione's house was rather small, much smaller than Harry's apartment. She didn't have much of an entryway; the main door swung into the living room. The kitchen was to the immediate left. There was no dining room. "You're in the other bedroom. Actually it's the den and I put a bed in there, but you're only staying a week."

"That's fine, Hermione," he assured her. She showed him to it. The den was, like the rest of the house, small. A twin bed sat in the center, but Harry could tell that Hermione had put a great deal of effort into it. The comforter was a blue patchwork quilt and the sheets were a lighter shade. The bedside table, equipped with a reading lamp, had a book about Quidditch upon it. He smiled and turned to see her. "Thanks," he said.

Hedwig flew in through the open window with a small parcel and dropped it on the bed. Then she sailed to Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, you," Harry said to her. She nipped at his ear and hooted at him. "I missed you too. What did you bring?"

Harry reached down and flipped the package over to read the return address. _From the Law Enforcement office; Evidence; Case number 2226; item 1._ Harry left it on the bed and stared at it.

"Is that it?" asked Ron.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he questioned.

"Not right now."

"Why not---ouch, Hermione!" he shrieked, rubbing his side where Hermione had elbowed him. "You don't have to do that!"

"You don't have to be so insensitive," she snapped back.

"I'm not being insensitive! I was simply asking if he was going to open it. How's that insensitive?"

"How can you be so thick? It was a traumatic event for him. Why would he want to see that thing just days after it happened?"

"I don't know, he only asked for it, remember?"

"Harry didn't want to look at it right away. He just wanted to have it when he was ready," she explained.

"How do you know?"

Hermione whirled around to face Harry, who lay on his bed with Hedwig perched on his knee. The box was still unopened at his feet. "Harry," she said in her bossy voice, "tell Ron I'm right."

"He's not going to tell you that!" Ron said.

"Why don't you let him speak for himself!" Hermione responded. "Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "When are you two getting married?" he asked.

"What?" they both said at once. Harry laughed.

"Listen to you two go on and on. You've been fighting like a married couple since we were kids. Get over it already."

"We do not fight like a married couple," Ron said.

"No?" Harry asked with one eyebrow up. "How would you describe it, then?"

"How we fight is not the point," Hermione said, tossing her hair back. "The point is whether I'm right about this."

"What does it matter, Hermione? I'll open it when I want to open it. There's really nothing more to it."

Probably trying to avoid Ron's show-offish remarks, Hermione made a huffing sound and stormed out of the room. Ron turned to Harry.

"_Do_ we fight like a married couple?" he asked silently. Harry smirked and nodded. "You think she has a secret thing for me?" Harry shook his head. "Then why do we fight like that?" Harry shrugged. "Well," he said with a sigh, sitting on Harry's bed, "can I get you anything?"

"No. I really think this whole nursing thing is way overboard. I can take care of myself just fine. I can walk, talk, jump around... this is a waste of my time. I could be out trying to catch those wizards in the Black Order."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Your Healer knows what's best for you. You looked dead when you got to St. Mungo's. It was really scary." Ron looked down at his hands. Harry got the impression that Ron wanted to tell Harry what happened. "I mean the way you were looking at us... it was like you were saying goodbye. And then your eyes started to haze over. Then your mouth... well, blood was coming out of it. Hermione was yelling at you to stay awake and I've never seen Dumbledore look so scared. He turned someone's shoe into a portkey then picked you up and took hold of it. We thought you were already dead, though. Your eyes were only half open and not moving..." He sighed again. "You're so lucky you made it through. Someone upstairs must really like you." He tried laughing.

Harry stroked Hedwig. "I'm sorry for how I acted that night," he said. "I was being a total idiot and I'm really sorry. I shouldn't treat you or Hermione like I did."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to apologize," he said.

"Yeah I do. I've been treating everyone like dirt for a while. I'm sorry. I mean, I almost died... again, and I don't want to leave this world knowing that I've treated you guys like I've been treating you."

They stared at one another for a while. Harry made his lips go thin and he continued to pet Hedwig.

"So where did Hermione run off to?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. Ron got up and went searching for her. Harry leaned back on the bed and glanced at the box--- Malfoy's angry yet satisfied eyes flashed across his mind. 

Certainly Malfoy was not the head of that outfit. If he was that powerful he could have beaten Voldemort; he would have been in charge. But that wasn't the case at all. 

He looked over at the box again. He reached down and picked it up. It was slightly longer than his hand, but heavy. He shook it. The knife inside only wiggled a little. Law Enforcement had packed it in nice and tight. Harry swallowed and set the box on his bedside table. Maybe he'd open it tomorrow...  
  


But he didn't. When the sun rose the next morning to snow covered houses on a cold December day, Harry did not open the box. He stared at it, glasses off, for half an hour before Hermione came in.

"How did you sleep?" she asked with a yawn.

"Fine," he lied. "You?"

"All right, I guess." She sat down on a small unused section of the mattress and scratched his back. "It will always be there," she said to him. "You don't have to keep focusing on it."

"Easy for you to say," he whispered. He pulled eyes away from it and looked back at her. "Have I said thank you?"

"Yes," she said, and then smiled. "You don't have to say it again. I know you would do the same for me."

"I would not," he said with a grin. "I'd leave you alone."

Hermione laughed. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," he said. "Are you a good cook?"

"I'm fair," she said. "I don't have supreme culinary abilities, but I can get by. But first you have to take your potions. I'll get them ready and bring them in here."

"No," Harry said, grabbing his glasses. "I can get up and walk into the kitchen. It's not a very long way away, you know."

"All right," she said. "I'll have everything out for you." She got up and left. Harry threw off his covers, swung out of bed, grabbed some of his clothes, and walked into the bathroom. He set his clothes on the sink and stared into the mirror.

He thought he looked weak. He had always had a mean physique but never weak. There were dark bags under his eyes, which were tinted red in the corners. His skin was sickly and pasty, with his dirty hair falling across his face.

"I look like a dying Beatle," he mumbled, pulling at his skin on his cheeks. "Paul looks better right now." He tore his eyes from his reflection and pulled his T-shirt over his head, casting it on the ground. He put his cold hand to his chest; it was still there, still beating. But when he looked down at it, the knife flashed into his mind. _"I came for the heart of a lion!"_ and then it was a part of him. A cold, golden weapon lodged in his heart. He would never forget how it felt. A steely cold in his chest, like a dementor could make him feel, only more piercing, more agony, more physical...

Hermione knocked on the bathroom door. "Harry?" Her voice sounded muffled.

"What?" he asked, bringing himself back to reality.

"How long are you going to take?" 

"A couple of days," he responded sarcastically. He heard her tapping her foot outside; he smirked. "Five minutes or so," he said.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"A Crape Suzette," he said with a smile. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stop. Seriously, whatever you want is fine with me."

"All right," she stepped away. Harry walked over to the shower and turned on the hot water spout. Of course, the end of December usually meant the water was freezing cold. Harry put his hand to the wall where the main pipe was. He thought about fire, the color orange and warm water, and instantly the water poured out hot. He finished undressing and stepped inside.  
  


Hermione had made toast with soft boiled eggs topped with salt and pepper. Harry's arrangement of potions sat on one side of a small table in the kitchen. Hermione was fussing with coffee and sugar. Harry sat down.

"You're supposed to take the pink one first, then the yellow. After that the order doesn't really matter," she informed him. She brought their coffee and sat down across from him. "Go ahead and drink them," she insisted.

Harry raised the pink vial to his nose. "It smells like old socks," he said with a wrinkled nose. She didn't respond. Harry sighed, put the vial to his lips and drank it in one gulp. "Yech!" he said with a face to match. Hermione bit her lip. "You'd think with all this magical power we have, that they could at least make this stuff taste better."

"Finish the potions, Harry," she told him before taking a bite of her toast.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. He picked up the yellow one. "Do you know what this looks like?" he said, raising the vial to the light. "I'll give you a hint, its defrosted yellow snow."

"Drink it, Harry," she said, sipping her coffee. 

He uncorked it and downed it. "Bitter," he said, setting the empty vial on the table. "Very bitter. It kinda has that aftertaste to it, like coffee. The others don't have any order to them? I'm not going to keel over if I drink the purple before the puke green?"

"No," she continued in her business like tone.

He drank another and set the vial down with a clink. "You could lighten up just a smidgen," he said, leaning on the table to look at her. "It might make this week go by quicker if you were in good humor."

She breathed in through her slightly stuffed nose, making a bit of a whistling sound, and then snapped her head up. "I am in good humor," she said looking at his hair.

Harry nodded and took another potion. "Are you?" he asked.

She shifted in her chair then took a sip of her coffee. "I'm fine," she replied.

"There was a course," Harry said, tracing his finger around the top of his coffee cup, "I had to take during training. So far it has been one of the most useful classes I have ever had. Care to venture a guess about what it taught?" He smiled at her but she didn't see. "It taught me how to recognize uncomfortable behavior. People who are uncomfortable when questioned are usually withholding something. You look uncomfortable."

"Harry," she said with a kind smile, "finish your potions and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Harry uncorked the remaining bottles and drank them quickly. He then completed his breakfast in four bites, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and then stared at her. "Hermione," he said cautiously, "I'm fine. I know it was hard on all of you, but I'm fine now. Really I am."

"Sure you are," she said. She stood up and cleared the table. Harry helped.

"I am," he said firmly.

"And I believe you," she said with straight lips.

"What's wrong, then?" he asked.

Her eyebrows hovered a moment and she shook her head. "Nothing," she replied, turning on the water. "I'll be fine."

"Are you going to make me drag it out of you?" asked Harry, pulling Hermione around to face him.

"There's nothing to drag."

"Liar," he said.

"Even if I did ask you," she started in a tone she had come to perfect, "you wouldn't give me a straight answer."

"A straight answer to what?" he asked.

"There's really no point in getting into it right now. You would evade my question by asking another one. Or you would pull some trick you learned along the way."

"Hermione," Harry said in a forced gentleness, "you know I only speak the truth to you."

"That's why you won't answer. So why even ask? But if I don't ask, then I wonder if I should ask, but asking won't get me anywhere with you because you won't answer. Don't ask me why."

He reached down for his wand, which wasn't there, and then rested his hand on the tiled counter. "Fine," he said causally. "Don't ask. In the mean time, I will be catching up on my owl post. You know where to find me. Thanks for breakfast, Hermione." He gave her a small salute and walked into his temporary room.

Hedwig hooted happily at him when he came in. He fell on the bed and stared at the ceiling, one of his legs swayed from side to side. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette right about now. He was sure Hermione and the Healer had trashed the ones he carried in his trench coat. If he wrote a letter to Dobby ordering him to send some, Hermione would sever both of their heads. He broke his gaze from the ceiling and looked at the box...

It was still there, where he had left it. _Just pick it up, _he told himself. _It's an object from a crime scene. You're making too big a deal of this. Open it..._ Harry grabbed it and sat up. It was wrapped in thick brown paper, heavily taped on the edges. Harry noticed that his fingernails had been trimmed down to near nothingness at the hospital. He had never really opened tape with magic before; learning would have been a complete waste of time. He looked around the room for something sharp.

"You wouldn't mind slicing this tape with your talons, would you girl?" he asked his owl. She bobbed her head up and down, her yellow eyes wide and bright. "No, you would." He went at the tape with his teeth first, then pulled it off once a little bit of it came up. He ripped off the brown paper and crumpled it into a ball. 

The box which sat before him was a yellowish pink. Harry thought it was a very strange color, but that wasn't his department. It had two strings wrapped around it. One on the long horizontal section, the other was short and covered the vertical aspects of the box. Harry picked it up and shook it again. It somehow felt heavier now that he was closer to opening it.

_What if they didn't clean the blood off_, he found himself thinking. He dropped the box on the bed--- Malfoy's eyes flashed across his mind once more. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to rid the image from his brain.

Luckily he was distracted by muffled voices coming from Hermione's living room. Curious, Harry went to investigate. When he opened the door, he saw Hermione's boyfriend lounging on the couch. Hermione sat beside him, one hand on his thigh. Harry stepped out of his room, one eyebrow cocked.

Luke Broadmoor sat up suddenly when Harry walked into the room. He was wearing his dark grey and white Quidditch robes; the profile of a falcon head was sewn on the chest. He was looking handsome like normally he did. Harry noticed that even Luke's boots were clean and shiny. Harry suddenly realized that he was wearing an old white shirt, Adidas work-out pants, and grey socks.

"Hello, Harry," Luke said politely. He stood up to shake Harry's hand.

"Hey," Harry replied tiredly.

"Hermione was just telling me what happened to you," he explained. _All of his teeth were perfectly straight and bright white._ "Quite the ordeal, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Harry said. "So how's Quidditch training going?"

"Well," he replied. "I actually have a game today in a few hours. I came to ask Hermione if she wanted to come along. You are also invited," he said formally.

Harry crossed his arms. "Isn't that swell? And so romantic too. Actually I'm not allowed to leave this house for six days with my heart condition, you know," he said, hitting his chest with his fist. "They think any over exertion and I just might keel over and croak."

"Are you being serious?" Luke asked, his brow furrowed. Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked embarrassed, then back at Luke.

"Sarcasm, Luke. I'm never going to die. I think I might be an immortal. But you two can go run along and snog in the Quidditch stadium before game time. I hope the Falcons win. Have a good time!" he said then walked backwards towards his room.

"Sure you don't want to come?" Luke asked once more.

"Yeah. I have tons of stuff to do," Harry said.

"Like what?" Hermione asked sternly.

"Like catching up on my owl post." 

"If I leave," she said, walking up to Harry, "will you promise to stay here and be good?"

"If I say yes will you bring me back a lollipop and a balloon?"

"You know what I mean, Harry," she said. "You won't leave this house, ride that confounded motorcycle, go looking for those men, exercise in any strenuous manner, or be yourself and get into trouble?"

Harry bit his bottom lip. "No?"

"No," she reinforced. "Now I am going to go to Luke's match and you will stay here."

"Right," Harry said with a curt nod. "I'll read a good book. I daresay you have a wide selection around here. I'll try keeping my nose out of trouble."

"And smoke. No smoking, Harry. If I come back and I smell any trace of tobacco in the air, in that room, or on your breath I will personally burn you alive. You got me?" she said, shaking her index finger at him. 

He tried to keep from smiling. "Yes."

"All right, then. I'm only being like this to keep you safe," she added hastily under her breath. "I'll be back by this afternoon."

"Fine," he replied. He kept backing up toward his room. "You kids run along and have fun, now. Bye-bye."

"Nice seeing you, Harry!" Luke said. He took Hermione by the hand and led her out. As she shut the door, Harry saw her mouth "be good." The door shut.

"What a boring sack of dung he is. Charlie was right." Harry paced around the living room, trying to decide what to do. He didn't want to break his word with Hermione, so driving to the Ministry wasn't an option. _She didn't say you couldn't Disapparate, though, did she?_ Harry smirked. He walked back into his room to get his coat and change pants. But when he was ready to go, he couldn't go. He couldn't Disapparate.

"Damn, Hermione!" he said, kicking his bed. He decided he would Disapparate from outside. He strode to the front door, went for the handle, and assumed it would open, and then hit his face on the closed door. "Damn it!" he yelled, kicking the door.   
  


Hermione came back around seven that night, looking flustered but tired. Harry glared at her from behind a book as he lay on the couch. She didn't seem to notice.

"Looks like you kept to the rules," she said.

Harry mimicked her soundlessly from behind his book, which hadn't had a page turn for fifteen minutes.

"Did you have a good time without me?" she asked. She put her coat, scarf, and mittens in the closet.

"A blast," he sighed.

"You would've enjoyed the game," she said. "The Falcons beat the Cannons 430 to 60. Ron won't be happy," she yawned. "So what did you do?"

"Oh you know," he said, "the usual. I had a bowl of sugar, bounced off the walls with a pogo stick, and set your kitchen ablaze for the hell of it." He set the book down on the coffee table and sat up. "I did nothing. You know I did nothing because you won't allow me to even snap my fingers or light a candle."

Hermione looked quite flattered. "I knew you would pull something."

"Those Healers don't know what their talking about. I'm fine to do anything and I don't need you looking after me like a child or something. I'm not five, Hermione."

"Perhaps you don't understand the severity of your injury," she said coolly.

"Oh, I know. Funny thing about that, I was there."

"Your body was there but you weren't," she snapped, her eyes moistening. "You have no idea what it was like after you were stabbed. I mean, for goodness sake, Harry! You were there, you saw what happened. That man plunged a sharp dagger into your heart and nearly killed you. That group of men held you down and let it happen then they dropped you on the ground and left you there to die," she cried. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, now. "It was stuck there, like it went in so easily. There was blood all over you and oozing out of your mouth. Have you any idea how terrifying it is to see that? Can you imagine standing over me with a dagger handle in my chest, blood pooling around me? Can you?" 

Harry frowned, scanned her eyes, and then shook his head.

"They told us you probably wouldn't last the night. Everyone was there waiting to hear about you. The Healer came out looking helpless and told us it was really bad." She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Harry looked down and kept quiet. "Dumbledore asked if there was anything they could do for you, anything we could do. That's when they came up with the transplant. But they said the chances of survival were slim. Dumbledore signed off for you. We sat there in that room waiting and praying for so long. Even strangers stayed with us." Her voice was trembling now. Harry didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Oh, Harry," she said, throwing her arms around him. He was temporarily blinded by her bushy hair in his eyes. He could feel her warm tears dripping down his neck. He didn't like the feeling, but he wouldn't push her away. "We were so worried about you," she sobbed. "You have no idea ho much we care for you."

He patted her on the back and sighed. "I do know," he told her.  
  


After Hermione's breakdown, Harry didn't try breaking any of her rules. He had Ron bring several books from Harry's personal library, but when he wasn't studying, he assisted Hermione in S.P.E.W. business. 

On the last evening of Harry's stay, while he was wetting envelopes for Hermione's monthly newsletter, there was a knock at her door. She frowned but went to answer it.

"There you are, Darling!" a bushy haired woman said, followed by, "How are you, Sweetie?" from a tall man with a small forehead and plenty of grey hair. The two allowed themselves into the house and put their neat scarves and clean coats on the rack by the door like it was a routine.

"Mum, Dad," she said surprised, "what are you doing here?" 

Harry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with stacks of papers surrounding him, tried to remove himself. Tongue between his teeth, he crawled backwards for the door to his room.

"Dinner, remember?" Mrs. Granger said. "You invited us weeks ago. Don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Uh," she said, looking into her somewhat dirty kitchen, "actually..."

"Hermione, pumpkin," Mr. Granger said, "you forgot us?"

"I've been really busy lately," she explained.

Harry was almost to the door when he knocked into a table and the lamp came crashing down on top of him. Rubbing the top of his head, Harry looked at Hermione.

"Who are you?" Mr. Granger asked, his kindly disposition gone.

Hermione walked over to Harry and roughly pulled him off the floor. "You remember Harry, don't you? I think the last time you saw him was at graduation." She dragged Harry over to them.

"Oh, that's right!" Mrs. Granger said, clapping her hands together. "I knew you looked familiar! Why I didn't recognize you right away, I don't know. You have such a distinct face. So," she said, walking closer to him, "how are you?"

"Fine," he replied. Hermione looked nothing like her mother. Mrs. Granger had a scrunched sort of look, as if all of her features had closed in on the center of her face. Her finger nails were newly manicured, her sweater smelled like fresh flowers, and her teeth, not surprisingly, were sparkling white.

Mr. Granger appeared to have contributed his facial genes to his daughter. Hermione had his eyes, his nose, and his smile. And while most men of his age have receding hairlines, his seemed to be doing just the reverse. He had too much hair, in Harry's opinion. But then he remembered his own...

"Weren't you the boy who killed that guy," Mr. Granger said, pointing his finger at Harry. "What was his name again, Hermione?"

"Voldemort," she replied, blushing slightly. Harry glanced sideways at her and tried to smile.

"That's the chap. You did that, right?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "I did that." Harry had always thought the Grangers were similar to the Dursleys, but not severe or rude. The Grangers valued nice cars, good business, educated people, and the latest gizmos technology had to offer. It also appeared as though Hermione told them as little as possible of the dangers in the wizarding world. But looking back, it made sense. Hermione had spent an unusual amount of time with Harry and Ron in their school years. If they had any idea of the real danger, Hermione might not have gone to Hogwarts at all.

"Spectacular," Mrs. Granger said. "Are you here for dinner as well?"

Harry was about to answer when Hermione stepped in. Harry remained by Hermione's side and endured the Grangers shocked expressions as Hermione told them every little detail about the Hogwarts Christmas party. Even though Harry had been in circumstances like this, being discussed while in the room, he had never really found a comfortable way to act. He took to staring at the ground.

"Oh you poor thing," Mrs. Granger said. "And no one else to take care of you but Hermione," she said.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione grabbed his hand and yanked a little. He shut his mouth.

"So I don't have dinner prepared," Hermione said. "I got sidetracked. I'm sorry. Maybe you could come back another time."

The Grangers didn't appear to like this option. Mrs. Granger walked into the living room and sat on the couch. "Well," she said, tapping her knees, "we planned on tonight."

"Well, Hermione wasn't planning on a lot of things," Harry snapped back. "Certainly you understand what it's like to be busy and forget something."

Hermione scowled at him and pursed her lips. Mrs. Granger had a similar look on her face as she stared at Harry. "I don't believe I was asking you for your opinion, Harry. I think I was talking to my daughter."

"I know you didn't. But I didn't like the way you spoke to her," he replied. Mr. Granger advanced on Harry, but Hermione reacted first.

"Excuse us," she said, pushing Harry into his room. She gave him a good shove and shut the door behind her. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Defending you," he replied. "They're treating you like dirt."

"They're treating me like a daughter. I can handle my parents without your help, Harry. Trust me, I've lived with them."

"Well, you were busy today and have been all week. It's not fair that they expect you to jump through hoops because of _their_ plans."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on Harry's bed. "Harry, that's how they are. They expect a lot from me and that will never change. We had dinner planned for weeks and they have busy schedules as well. I can understand their frustration and disappointment."

"That doesn't give them the right to talk to you like that. You're not a child anymore."

"No, you're right, but I am still their child. Besides, what right do you have to talk to them the way you did?"

"I'm your friend, Hermione. I was defending you."

"Thanks, but I don't need defending when it comes to them. I can handle them alone. Now, I'm going to go back out there and apologize for your behavior, and then I'll have to come up with an alternative plan." She pushed herself off the bed and went for the door.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"You can come out and apologize or you can stay in here and open that knife you asked for. It's been almost a week since you left the hospital, surely you can face it now."

"What do you mean, 'face it'? You think I'm afraid of it?" he asked angrily.

"Yes, and you have good reason to be. But right now I don't have time to debate about your feelings. You can come out whenever you like, all right?"

Harry sat down on the bed and nodded. Hermione left. Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out an expandable file he sent away for. He unsnapped it and reached inside. Three files fell out onto the bed: Malfoy, Lucius. Burgess, Guy. Philby, Kim Russell. He opened one of them and began reading it for the third time. What he couldn't understand was why no one else was pursuing these men; why they were allowed to roam free. And why was Harry the only one who knew the real sequence of events?

Harry heard someone coming to his door. He slid the files under his bed. Hermione knocked then entered.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" she asked.

Harry looked up at her. "They don't mind dining with a delinquent like me?" he asked.

"You're not a delinquent. They understand your mood. So would you like to come or not?"

Harry's stomach grumbled. He was very hungry and if he had to wait until after the Grangers left, he might go insane.

"Sure," he replied.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger didn't talk to Harry much. Instead they busied themselves with Hermione's life. The three of them talked about her publishing job, new books that they had read, Spew, and Hermione's cousin who was getting married. Harry sat at the end of the small table feeling as if it was a large dining hall and he was at the far end of it. He supposed he was intruding upon them, as he wasn't any part of the family. He didn't know if he would be rude by excusing himself, or even if they would notice. Hermione seemed to be the only one who looked at him as she spoke. Still, he had the distinct impression that her parents didn't like him. It didn't bother him too much, but it did annoy him.

They suddenly stopped talking. Hermione smiled at Harry, and then Mr. Granger turned around to see him.

"So, Harry, what do you do for a living?"

Caught unexpectedly, he stuttered. "Um, I'm an Auror," he said.

"Ah, that's like a police officer, isn't it?"

"Kind of, but not really," Harry said. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile. "It's a bit more extensive than a police officer, but it's the same general purpose."

"General purpose?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Getting the bad guys," Harry responded.

"Oh," she said. "Sounds fascinating."

"It's really dangerous," Hermione told her parents. "Harry's really good at it, though. Of course it seems like he was born for it, right Harry?"

He stared at her and meant to smile but there was an uncomfortable wriggling in his stomach. "Sure," he said quietly. He looked at his watch.

"Did you get that ring from the Academy?" Mr. Granger asked, pointing to the ring on Harry's right ring finger. Harry looked down at it. It was a large platinum ring with a square navy blue stone set in the center. A sun was engraved on one side and '01' on the other.

"When I graduated, yeah," he said. He looked at his watch again. "Um, I'm going to bed. I'm really exhausted." He stood up and pushed his chair into the table. "It was nice seeing you," he added clumsily. He cleared his plate then marched to his room where he took a huge breath. He sat down on his bed facing away from the door and opened one of his Dark Arts books, trying to find spells the Black Order used against him. He had scanned half the volume, coming up with nothing, when he heard voices bidding their farewells. Then there was whispering. Harry crawled off the bed to open his door a crack so he could see Hermione and Mrs. Granger through a sliver.

"It's all right that you didn't tell me," Mrs. Granger said.

"Tell you what?" Hermione asked.

"That your living with that man. Hasn't he been your friend for years now?" she asked.

Hermione's posture went from comfortable to defensive. "I'm not living with Harry!" she whispered loudly. "I'm taking care of him because he was hurt. I told you that."

"Oh sweetie," she replied, "you didn't expect me to believe that story, did you? How could anyone survive a stab in the heart? It's okay that you're living with him. I know it's the new millennium and girls your age do things differently than in my generation."

"Mother," she said impatiently, "I have a boyfriend and it's not Harry. The story I told you was true. Harry leaves tomorrow morning. I know he's counting down the seconds. Besides, I will never live with a man before marriage; I don't care what other women do."

"All right, Hermione," she said, kissing her daughter on the cheek. "If you're playing Florence Nightingale, that's fine too. I'm open minded." She put on her coat and scarf. "I love you, Hermione," she said, hugging her.

"I love you, too, Mum. Drive carefully. And I am not dating Harry!" she added as her mother walked out of the door. Hermione turned the knob and bolted the lock, then whirled around. Harry saw that she was wearing a funny sort of smile and shook her head. "_Open minded_," she mumbled.

Harry closed the door and jumped back on the bed as Hermione made her way towards him.

"They're gone," she said. "You can come out now." 

Harry twisted his head around to see her. "I should get to sleep, you know. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'll be getting right to work."

"No, you're supposed to go to St. Mungo's first for you weekly check-up. Then you can go to work on that confounded motorcycle of yours. Why did you get that thing, anyways? It's so loud and really dangerous. People get killed on those things."

Harry laughed. He closed his book and tossed it on the floor, then moved over so Hermione could sit down next to him. 

"People get killed all the time, not just on motorcycles. Besides I have more fun than should be allowed when I'm on it. I'll have to take you for a ride one day."

"I will never get on that thing," she said.

"Sometimes you need to live on the edge to live properly. Take a few risks every once in a while. Anyway, I'm a very safe driver," he said with a smirk. "I'm like a granny on the road. Snails pass me."

"I'm so sure. Ginny told me that you play chicken with on coming traffic and you speed away from motorcycle police units for fun."

"I only out strip those guys when I'm late for something important," he said with his finger raised. "Like grocery shopping."

Hermione laughed softly. "Harry, I'm sorry my parents were a little rude to you. They're just... kind of intrusive at times. They don't mean to be, that's just their nature."

"You don't have to apologize for them," he said. He leaned over the side of the bed and picked up a stack of playing cards. "Not Exploding Snap, though. Just the regular deck. Do you know how to play War?" He began shuffling the deck.

"I hate that game. I always lose."

"There's no strategy involved. It's all luck of the draw." He dealt the cards quickly then put down the first card. A two of spades.

"Well, I always get the unlucky cards. And the game lasts for hours at a time." She cast down a five of hearts and smiled, taking away Harry's two. "Since you said you'll only answer me honestly, do you mind if I probe your mind?" She put down a ten of clubs.

"Nope. But I get to ask you and you have to answer honestly as well." Ace of hearts. Harry took away her ten and laid down a Jack.

"That's fair." She looked down. "Do you think Ron will ever become an Auror?" she asked, throwing down a Queen. "Yes! Ha!" she took the cards. "So do you?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "No. He's not smart enough. I'm not saying he's stupid, because he's far from it, but his reasoning is a little off. There's really nothing he can do about that; it's inborn. Are you going to put a card down?"

"Oh," she said. Six of diamonds. Harry touched his chest out of habit, looking for a pack of cigarettes, but he sighed as there was nothing there but his old shirt. He flicked his card down. Six of hearts. "I hate this part," Hermione whined. Harry grinned as he lay three of his cards face down while Hermione did the same. He flipped over the fourth one to reveal the king of spades. Hermione flipped over her last one, holding her breath, to reveal a three. "No!"

Harry laughed as he scooped up her cards and examined them. "I've got two of your aces!" he teased. Hermione scowled. "My turn for a question," he mumbled as he tapped his cards. "Do you love Luke?" He put down a seven of clubs.

Hermione took in a breath; Harry looked up at her. "That's personal."

"You didn't set rules to what kind of questions could be asked. Are personal ones not allowed?" he asked. He looked around the room for his cigarette pack, but assumed Hermione had hidden them or torched them.

"Well," she started, "I guess you could ask. But I get to ask you personal stuff, too!" she rushed.

"That's fine," he said. "It's your turn to put a card down and you still need to answer my question."

Hermione laid down a nine. She took away his seven. 

"So?" he persisted, "do you?"

She made a fuss of straightening her cards. "I'm not sure. Those kinds of things take time. I mean, he's a very nice man, he's smart, he's talented, he's independent... and good-looking. Our kids would be beautiful." She smiled. "Why do you ask?"

He shook his head. "He just doesn't seem to fit you well. I can't see you marrying a Quidditch player. It would be really weird."

"Who can you see me marrying?" she asked. Harry laughed.

"Not your turn to be asking the question. You need to put a card down. It's your turn for that." 

Hermione flipped over a queen of hearts then looked at Harry, who took his time to put down an ace of diamonds. "So ask your question," she commanded. 

"I'm still thinking of one," he said. He put down another ace.

"Think faster," she replied with the Jack she took from Harry. "That's so not fair! You have all the high cards!"

"Do you like your job?" Four of clubs.

"Yes, I do. I know you think it's a waste of my talents, but it gives me time to work with S.P.E.W. Now, who do you see me married to?"

"I'm not sure, but not Luke. I can actually see you married to Ron, if you believe that. Put down a card, Hermione."

Three of spades. Harry took it away. "Ron? You see me married to Ron? The Ron we know? Ron Weasley? Auror assistant Ron?"

"How many Rons do you know? Yes, Ron Weasley. Haven't you noticed that he's jealous of all the men you date?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to marry Ron. He's only jealous because he can't find a good match. I'm the only woman he has for a friend. It's lack of options. I feel kind of sorry for him, you know? His job is a joke, his personal life leaves a lot to be desired, and he keeps putting himself in your shadow. It almost seems like he wants to be second best."

Harry yawned and put down another card. Eight of clubs. Hermione laid down an eight of diamonds. Harry grinned as he put down three more face down, then he laid down a two. Hermione held her breath as she put down her three cards and also laid a two down. Harry laughed and repeated the process ending with a Jack. Hermione bit her lip as she set down her last card. Ace. "YES!"

She swept across to pick up Harry's cards, then examined them. Her face fell. "What a sorry selection. You're not rearranging them, are you?"

"Hermione," he said with a smirk, "are you accusing me of cheating?"

"Yes."

"I'm not cheating. I promise. My turn for a question, but after this I'm done for the night. Okay, I have to make this a good one..." Hermione put down a card. Harry put down his. She took them. She put down another, Harry the same, they played war. Hermione won. She put down a card, he put down a card, he won.

"Do you think," he asked silently, "it was my fault? I mean, did you see it as my fault, because I know others did, that Mrs. Weasley died?"

Hermione stopped her hand from placing a card. She stared into his face; her mouth and eyes were wide with shock. "Of course not," she said. "You didn't mean for that to happen, no one did. They weren't even after her."

"No, I know that. But she was protecting me, remember?"

Hermione set down her cards and got closer to him. "That still bothers you, doesn't it?" She tried to take Harry's hands but he moved them away. He made to shuffle his own deck. "Harry, everyone protected you. We had to."

"Because I was the one," he said in a deeper voice with a slight note of resentment.

"Yes, partly, but mostly because we wanted you alive."

"No. It was mostly because I was the only one who could murder Voldemort. People get over death because it's part of life. Everyone protected me not because I would be greatly missed, but because I was the one who got to save the world. I heard you talking to Ron about Mrs. Weasley, back at school. You were both wondering why she died to protect me, because as Ron put it, I wasn't hers to protect."

"He saw his mother murdered right before his eyes. It was traumatic. He was asking normal questions for the circumstances. He wondered why she did it, because you hadn't told her about the prophecy. You can't blame yourself for her murder or your destiny. It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask Mrs. Weasley to jump out and fight for you. You didn't ask for _anything_that happened. Harry, look at me," she said grabbing his cheeks between her two hands. "It is not your fault. Stop beating yourself up. You said it yourself; death is a part of life. It's the only thing that is certain." She swept the hair out of his face and smiled to him. "Arthur's behavior upsets you?"

"Why shouldn't it? He's so different now; he's like a whole other person. He's not happy, he only pretends. He works all the time and avoids me at all costs."

Hermione sighed. "Men don't cope very well with the death of their wives. It's very strange but it's true. If the husband dies first, the woman will be okay. But if it's the wife who dies and leaves the husband alone, for some reason he suffers more. Women nurture and love. A lot of women don't like to hear it, but it's true. We are the caretakers of the world. Molly took care of Arthur and her children. Now that she's gone... I know he shouldn't act the way he does toward you, but he's only human."

Harry nodded in a final sort of way.

"Are we going to finish the game?"

"No, I'm tired. We'll say you won. Thanks, Hermione." He took her cards and put them back in the box. "I'll see you in the morning?" He got off the bed and helped her up.

"You're going to speed out of here, aren't you?" she asked with a smile.

"Speeding is a little extreme, but I have a lot to do now that I'm healthy and all. But I do appreciate your aid, Florence," he said. He opened the door for her.

"You listened to my mother," she said. "Eavesdropper."

"Guilty. See you in the morning."

"Yeah," she replied, but she didn't walk out. She had a strange but determined look on her face; one he hadn't seen on her. Harry was about to ask what the problem was, but Hermione had made up her mind. In a smooth and quick motion, she put her hands on the back of his neck and brought her head up to his. He knew her destination and purpose by her approach. Keeping his upper body stiff and his eyes open, he turned his head slightly so she kissed his cheek.

Hermione pulled back with a slight frown, but he avoided her eyes. He kept his eyes down towards the floor, but looked out the door, hoping she would get the hint. She tried catching his eye, but Harry wouldn't look at her. 

"Goodnight," he told her. Hermione glared at him, then marched out and slammed the door. 

Harry walked to the bed and lay down, his mind heavy with too many thoughts, Hermione just one of the multitude of headache-causing material. It felt as though a heavy black pillow was suffocating him, blinding him, deafening his ears. He couldn't sleep with all of it. 

Harry sat up and turned on the lamp, pulled the box from the stand, and set it in front of him. With trembling hands, he ripped the string from the box and lifted the top. Some sort of cloth covered the inevitable. Harry gently lifted if it out of its box and dropped it on the floor.

He breathed heavily as he stared at it.

Even in his dark room, the dagger gleamed and sparkled. The handle was made of what must be the finest gold in the world. A giant sapphire was embedded in the upper most portion of the handle, which was carved so beautifully, Harry almost forgot it was a weapon. His eyes moved down it. A lion's mouth opened up and shimmering blade curved out of it. 

Harry reached down and pulled it out of its box. It was heavy. Harry furrowed his brow. Somehow the dagger seemed heavier without its packaging. He laid the blade in the palm of his left hand, the handle in the right. The silver blade was different at the tip and edges. Harry could see through it somehow, but the image of his hand was distorted. He looked up at the handle. There was small raised writing just below the sapphire. Harry had to squint to read it: _aah emoc hsiw_. Harry shook his head.

He flipped the knife over to the other side. And, like it's opposite, there was a sapphire with writing below it: _wish come haa_.

"_What_?" Harry whispered to himself, feeling more confused than before opening the box.


	5. The Dagger of Ithaca

Chapter Five: The Dagger of Ithaca  
  


******

Present

******

Harry yawned, stretching his hands toward the white ceiling. He pulled back his wrist to look at the pathetic watch he had been given in order to tell the time. The only sound in the room now was a scribbling of pen on a pad of paper and the quiet ticking of his cheap watch. Harry surveyed Marc as he etched his thoughts on the page.

"It's late," Harry spoke. "I think you should go now."

Marc wrote out a final word and hit the pad with his quill, making his period. He gazed up into Harry's eyes. "Hermione has feelings for you, other than friendship," he said, consulting his pad once again. "How do you feel about that?"

Harry sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. "I wondered how long it would take you to ask that."

"About Hermione?" 

"No, the question. 'How do you feel about that?' But I suppose it's an interesting one. If I were in your shoes I would be curious. In all honesty, I'm not sure how I feel about it. But she's my best friend in the world. Changing that would end our friendship. That's that."

"'That's that?'" Marc asked. "Nothing more?"

"Not now. It's late and I'm tired of talking. Let's continue this in the morning, all right?" he whined.

Then Marc checked his watch; it was past seven in the evening. "Fine. I'll be here as the sun shines. Are you hungry?"

"No," Harry said with a frown. "No. I usually go days without sustenance. My super powers are enough to keep me going." He rolled his eyes again. "Of course I'm hungry you idiot. There wouldn't be any possibility of me getting to eat out, would there?"

"None," Marc answered. He stashed his notes away and stood up. "I'll send someone in."

"I'm being treated like a criminal. Have I even been charged with anything?" Harry inquired, his hands tapping the chair's arms. 

"You assaulted Hermione Granger for no apparent reason. You acted irrationally and confused. You remember what happened. That and you are very dangerous. Very dangerous." He started out.

"I am not," Harry whispered. "I am not." With a great whoosh, Marc was gone and Harry was alone again. He moved out of the chair to his bed, pulling the white sheets over his head. He wasn't tired. He lied to Marc. He actually felt more energized now than the rest of the week. 

Someone came in the room. Harry saw the blurry figure through the sheet which covered his face.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, setting down a tray. Harry could smell the hospital food through the sheet. His stomach gave a loud growl. "The last time you ate was late this morning."

"I know," he replied, pulling the sheet off his head. The nurse was a young woman with a round face and figure. "If I ask you something, will you answer me truthfully?" he asked her.

Her lips quivered. "I guess that depends on what you ask."

Harry smirked and pulled himself up to look at her. "Are you frightened of me?"

"No," she answered quickly, taking a small step back. "Now you eat up and have a goodnight sleep. You need your strength."

"I would have it if the charms on this room were lifted. No, don't go," he said to her as she backed away from him. "I only talk to the shrink because I have to. Please, you look so friendly. I don't want to eat alone."

She shifted her eyes to the wall behind her, then back at Harry. "I'm not sure I'm allowed."

"But you want to," Harry said, smiling now. "You're curious about me, right? I know you have to be. I'm not as scary as they say I am, you know. Please sit down with me," he said, signaling to the chair beside him. "Only for a little while."

She looked to the wall again, hesitated for a moment, then sat down tenderly in the chair. Harry grabbed a sandwich from the tray and took a big bite. Tomato, lettuce, pasteurized cheese, and deli meat of some kind. No mustard. 

Harry looked at his guest. "So what's your name?" he asked.

"My name?" she jumped.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, something you go by."

"Oh, it's Dinah," she said. Harry stopped chewing momentarily and nodded. 

"That's a pretty name," he said.

"Thanks. My mother was a fan of Alice and Wonderland. Dinah was the name of the cat. She loves cats."

Harry nodded and swallowed the last of his sandwich. "Named after a cat, huh? Interesting." He reached for the bag of potato chips and pulled them open.

"Who were you named after?" she asked.

Harry paused. He could feel the nurse watching him with anticipation. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I have no idea. I never thought to ask anyone if they knew."

"Oh," she replied, sounding sorry, "I didn't mean to bring up something sensitive."

"I'm almost twenty-four, Dinah. It's not sensitive. I don't ever think it was," he mumbled pensively. "How can you miss people you never knew? Anyways," he continued, dipping into his chips. "Hey, could you tell me why some people can walk in and out of here so easily and why some people can't?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but then a male nurse entered, his hand in his pocket. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked Harry, frowning at Dinah. Harry recognized his voice and the fall of his step; he had wrestled Harry to the ground the previous night. "Talking. It's a major form of communication in humanly occupied countries. Is that illegal in here?" he asked, sitting forward over his knees. "God forbid I break any of your rules."

"You're not to ask her questions about security. And she," he said, snapping his head at her, "is not to answer. Don't cause trouble, Potter, you're in enough as it is. Dinah, come out now." She did as told, gave one sorrowful look to Harry, then left. The male nurse glared at Harry, who glared right back, the hair falling into his eyes. "Behave," the nurse said, waving his finger at Harry as he departed.

"Yes, daddy," Harry replied. He lay back on his bed and grabbed a cigarette from his bedside table. He lit it and smoked in silence, making ships and rings with the smoke. He didn't know how long it had been since Marc had left.

"It's not safe to do that in bed," an accented woman's voice said. Harry jumped and sat up. A thin, short Indian woman stood at the other end of his cell. Harry hadn't heard her enter. 

"Who are you?" he asked. 

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Harry squinted at her. "Yes," he said, "I would."

Again she smiled. She extracted a cigarette from a gold clip and lit it with the snap of her fingers. Harry grinned at her. "You're not the only one who knows that trick," she told him, blowing smoke out her nose.

"It's handy," he said, pulling smoke into his lungs. "If you're not going to tell me who you are, would you inform me as to why you're here?" he asked.

She took her time to respond. "I wanted to see you. And I wanted to apologize for my colleague's lack of talent and knowledge. He is nervous around you."

"Your colleague? Simon's your partner, is he? What are you, his student or supervisor?"

"None of those," she said with a slight hint of laughter. "We study the same theories and thoughts. I can read better than he." She paced closer to him, the cigarette smoking from between her fingers. "It's frustrating, isn't it?" she asked. "To see you here, to be here; it must be frustrating." She sat down in the chair and drew in more smoke. Harry did the same.

"What kind of game is this?" he asked her, one eyebrow hiking up his face.

She laughed softly. "A game? You think I've come here to play a game?" She shook her head at him. "I said I came to see you. I wanted to know what you were like. I've been watching from the observation room, but it isn't the same as seeing you live and in color."

"Like I'm a freak show?" he asked aggressively.

"Did I say that?" she asked slowly, her eyes narrowing. "I don't think I did."

Harry scowled.

"But I'm impressed with you," she continued. "You're very powerful. Power impresses me. Does it impress you, Harry?"

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time with sincerity. 

"Let's hope you don't find out," she remarked. Then she spoke to him carefully and clearly. "So does it? Does power turn you on? Does it arouse you? Does it make your skin tingle? Come on, Harry, you can be honest with me. It feels good to have so much of it, doesn't it? That's the only reason you're tolerating this prison, right? Your power is surging and pumping through your veins, boiling out of your skin, burning in mommy's eyes." She grinned at his quick response. His mouth fell open a little as he stared at her. "Oh," she said, "have I earned your attention now? I'll bet you're even more curious about me than before. That's excellent. I need to tell you something before I go and you need to remember it should your mission fail. The world is very small." She continued working on her cigarette.

Harry felt himself leaning forward towards her, urging her to finish her message. But when she continued to smoke and stare at him, Harry spoke.

"That's it? The world is small?" He shook his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't have time to go into every meaning. What you need to remember, though, is size of worldly things. Not very many wizards have your power. Everyone who breathes magical air knows that." She stood. "Could be dangerous for you. Have a nice sleep, Harry." She turned her back on him and walked out, leaving Harry to brood in silence.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling more exhausted than before he fell into sleep. He sat up and rubbed his itchy eyes. His lids felt strangely heavy. He pushed the sheets off of him; put his left leg over the bed, then his right, steadily easing his weight onto them as he rose. As he strolled to the bathroom, he thought he heard something that prickled his skin.

He whirled around and stared, but no one appeared to be in there with him. Still, he felt as though he was being watched; as if someone was following behind him.

_Stay calm_, he told himself. But how could he when he could hear someone else breathing, taunting him with silent whispers. He tried shaking it off as he entered the bathroom. As he looked into the mirror, trembling slightly, he thought he felt someone slide their hand down his back. He turned around suddenly - he heard faint laughter. 

"Harry?" Marc's voice questioned from outside. "You still here?"

He whirled around to see Marc, who he was never happy to see until now. "Yes," he said. "I'm in here. I'll be out in a second."

Marc nodded to himself and sat in the chair Harry had occupied the day before. He drew out his notepad, pen, and recorder and arranged them appropriately. Harry came out a few minutes later looking weak and shaken.

"Good morning. Are you feeling all right?" Marc asked, sitting up attentively. 

Harry avoided his eyes as he slowly walked back to his bed. "Sure," he said, resting back down. But not only did he just hear whispers, he had a disturbing dream before he awoke. He imagined himself standing on a small parcel of land which was surrounded by steaming water. Hermione and Ron were both with him, but that wasn't enough- he wanted more. He abandoned them and dove into the boiling water, burning and melting his skin. When he asked for their help to pull him out of the water, they pushed his head under. He woke up in a pool of sweat.

"You don't look so well," Marc commented.

"Well I haven't seen sunlight for a long time. When can I leave?" he asked, desperately wanting to change the topic and his environment.

Marc pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "That's not up to me to decide. I need to get your story, listen to what you have to say and offer up, then report to the Ministry. A lot weighs on my evaluation of you, but a lot weighs on what the Ministry has to say. Now," he said, fiddling with the tape recorder in his left hand, "why didn't you allow Hermione to kiss you?"

Harry bit his bottom lip in thought and smoothed out a few wrinkles on his pants. "Because she doesn't know," he started, not facing the doctor.

"What doesn't she know?" Marc asked.

"She doesn't know what I am," he answered simply.

Marc scrunched his brow and shook his head. "What are you, Harry?"

"A lot of things," he whispered. "She only thinks she knows me, but there's so much she doesn't know about me."

"Like?"

"What I can do. What I have done." He bent his head lower as if concentrating on the wrinkles in his clothes, then spoke even softer than before. "What I can't do."

"What can't you do?" Marc asked, sitting on the edge of his chair now. "What kinds of things can't you do?"

"Important ones," he said numbly. He took a deep breath and seemed to shake off the thought. He looked back at Marc and smiled. "So," he said, "after I opened the knife and found myself clueless, I tried sleeping."

"Harry," Marc said, "what about Hermione?"

"No," he said. "I know what you want to ask, and the answer is no. I love Hermione in a friend kind of way, nothing more. She's been my best friend for most of my life and I don't want that to change. So no, doctor, I don't want any romantic relationship with her. She will have someone else, but not me."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. I want her to have someone else. She's my friend, that's all."

"She would be a good match for you," Marc insisted.

"No," Harry replied sternly. "She will have someone else. I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay? Don't you want to get to it? It's almost over. I really want out of here, Doctor. I _hate_ this room."

"All right," he said, "please continue." He tried ignoring the probing questions in his mind. He would ask Harry about them later...

"I couldn't sleep of course. My mind was trying to solve the riddle on that dagger. I gave up in the early morning and decided I needed to go back to my apartment. I didn't want to wake up Hermione, so I left a note telling her how thankful I was. I didn't mention anything about what she had attempted to do."

"A note? You left a simple note?"

"That's what I said. Do you want to interrupt me, or should I continue with the story?"

"Sorry," Marc said with a small smile. "Please, go on."

*************

January 3, 2004

*************

Harry left the note explaining why he was leaving and the inscription on the knife on the pillow. He threw on his coat, checked to make sure he had his wand and his keys, and packed the dagger back in the box then fit it into one of his pockets. He tiptoed out of his room, through the living room, and out of the house without making a sound.

The harshness of the cold bit him as soon as he stepped into the crunching snow. He could see his breath and feel his feet freeze. Not surprisingly, his motorcycle wasn't here. With a loud pop, Harry Disapparated.

He reappeared inside his warm apartment where a fire was ablaze. He sighed, pulled off his coat, tossed it on the back of his couch, and sat down. He heard someone small sprinting toward him.

"Harry Potter is home!" Dobby squealed, leaping at Harry. He grabbed onto Harry's midriff and squeezed, burying his head in his shirt.

"It's nice to see you, too," Harry said, patting Dobby's head. "Thanks for the socks by 

the way. They were very nice."

"Dobby wanted them to match Harry Potter's ring!" he said excitedly, hugging Harry again.

"I know. You did a great job. I really think they're fantastic." 

"Dobby was very worried about Harry Potter."

"Yeah," he said, "a lot of people were. Listen, I came by here to get a few things, but I'll be heading out when the sun comes up."

"Where is Harry Potter going?"

Harry grinned at Dobby. "I have to talk to some people, look into some things. You know how my trips are: I can't really go into too much detail. The important thing is I'll be happy once I get away for a while. I'll be researching the people who did this to me, find out why they did it, and who's behind it all."

Dobby's smile faded away. "Leaving again?"

"Yep," Harry said pushing off the couch. He walked to his private library and went inside. Dobby followed. Harry had a voluminous collection of Dark Arts books as well as books concerning defense against them. He pulled down a few, blowing the dust off the pages.

"But Harry Potter can't leave again!"

"Yes he can. He has to leave." He bent down and read. "I wish I knew what that spell was," he mumbled to himself. He shut the book, put it under his arm, and marched to his bedroom.

"No!" Dobby screeched, grasping onto Harry's moving leg. "Please stay with Dobby!"

"Can't." He pulled down a shrinkable suitcase and threw it on his bed. He put his books inside of it then walked back to the library, Dobby dragging on the floor, when someone knocked on the door. Harry paused. 

_Rap, rap, rap._

"Should Dobby answer the door?" Dobby asked, standing at the ready.

"Who would show up at this hour?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Dobby will find out!" and the house elf ran to the door before Harry could stop him. Harry followed, attempting and failing to prevent Dobby from opening the door. 

"Hiya, Harry," Ron said with a grin. He had obviously Apparated for his hair was free of snow and his skin free of all signs of unbearably cold weather.

"Ron," he replied, "what are you doing here?"

"Hermione told my yesterday that I should get you to the hospital for your check-up. And I'm to make sure you don't hurt yourself in any way," he rehearsed. "You know how she is. So what are you up to so early?"

"Harry Potter is packing to leave," Dobby said sadly. Harry whirled around and scowled at him; Dobby cowered.

"You're leaving again? Already? Why?" he asked, looking offended.

"Because. Why do I have to give a reason all the time? I'm an unattached adult, you know. If I want to leave then that means I can leave."

"You have a job, Harry."

"Oh really!" he shouted. "Gee, thanks for telling me about it. I would've forgotten if you hadn't dropped by at," he made a big motion to examine his watch, "five in the morning! I am tired of being treated like a juvenile. I don't care what Hermione tells you to do, Ron. She's not in charge of me and neither are you. So why don't you walk through that door and let me alone!"

Ron froze but was regaining muscle control. "What happened to 'I shouldn't treat you so bad'? Remember that, Harry. Remember when you woke up from your operation and you told me you were sorry for how you treated me and Hermione? Returning to your old ways, are you? What has gotten into you?" He examined Harry closely; his eyes were firm and set.

Harry slowly dropped his temper and lowered his head. "Sorry," he grunted.

"Are you?"

"Yes. It's just that I have so much on my mind and I'm tired. I wanted to leave by sunrise and track down these wizards."

"Don't you want to know what's been going on while you were with Hermione?" Ron asked, a peculiar expression on his lips.

"What?" he asked. 

"There have been a number of attacks during the past week. Hermione begged me not to tell you. She was afraid you would run out and get to work, thereby hurting yourself, or some such nonsense."

"Attacks? Against who?" 

"Well," Ron said, sitting down on one of Harry's bar stools, "that's the weird thing about it. A few people went missing then they showed up later, dead. Harry," he said calmly, "they had silver daggers in their hearts."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "The Black Order?"

"We're not sure who did it, or how. The families reported them missing, then a few days later they all showed up in their offices, dead as doornails. All the knives are identical; silver grips, silver blades. I was going to compare them with... well, yours, but you have it."

Harry strode over to his coat which hung from the back of the couch. He reached in for the box, walked back to the bar counter, and set it down. He opened it much quicker than last night. He heard Ron gasp as Harry set the dagger on the counter, where it gleamed in the weak light.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Same design?"

Ron pulled photos from his robes and gave them to Harry. "Yours has a gold grip with jewels. The others are simply silver with funny designs on them."

Harry studied the photo of the knives. Each was identical to the next, but quite different from Harry's. These seemed much larger in size, the blades were straight and solid, and they were absent any gems or raised writing. They were simply daggers.

"These were meant to kill," Harry mumbled. He looked down at his smaller dagger with the curved blade, which was translucent on the edges and tip. "Mine wasn't."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Look," he said, pointing to the clear edge of the blade. "It's almost like a reflection but distorted on the other side. The edge and tip aren't silver like the blade. And this writing is weird. Wish come haa, whatever that means, and the reverse of it on the other side."

"Wish come haa?" Ron asked, frowning. "That doesn't make sense. There isn't writing on the others at all. Do you think they're from the same people?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea," he mumbled. "But you said they were stabbed through the heart, like me. And they had strange disappearances, like the escape from Azkaban. I think it_is_ connected Ron. Only half the pieces are missing. And I bet this dagger is the key. Wish come haa..."

"Should we go to the library?"

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "What does it mean? Haa isn't a word, but the other two are..."

"Wait," Ron said, picking up the dagger, "this lion."

"What about it?"

"Look at the photos again, Harry." Harry picked up the pictures once more and examined one which had a close up of the knives. They too had some sort of animals carved on them. Harry had seen these creatures before but he couldn't remember where. 

"They're like half human and half bird."

"With faces like women," Harry mumbled. Then he put it together. "Sirens," he said.

"Sirens?"

"Yes. Half woman, half bird. They would sing beautifully in hopes of luring men to them, and their boats would crash on the rocks and they would drown. They're not real, as far as I know. Sirens are mythical."

"So it's just a coincidence?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said, feeling more confused by the second.

"Because lions are real and yours has a lion."

Harry sat down and scratched his head. "He wanted the heart of a lion," he mumbled.

"What?" Ron asked with a pained, confused expression.

"Malfoy. Before he stabbed me he said he came for the heart of a lion. He never said anything about killing me..."

Ron shook his head in confusion. "Malfoy? Harry what are you on about?"

"Malfoy was the one who stabbed me. For some reason only I know the identities of those men. He put you and everyone else under- wait, that's it. The spell!" He hit his forehead but laughed. "That's why I'm the only one who can remember right. The Black Order put a spell on all the hostages. Malfoy said that, with the spell, he could change their memories. That's what they did! And because I wasn't under that spell, I remember what really happened! Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Malfoy said he wanted to play a game with me. The game ended back there, but this dagger is a key of some sort. If I only knew how it fit." Harry set the knife down and strode to his library again, Ron tagged along. Harry laid a finger on each book and walked across the room, reading each title. "I probably don't have anything that will help me with that clue."

"What's in here?" Ron asked, as he began opening a black cabinet in the corner. Harry turned to see then ran to it and shut it before Ron could open it fully.

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Weapons. I collect them," he explained quickly. He clasped a lock on the cabinet and walked away from it.

"What kind?" Ron asked. "Wizard, Muggle, other?"

"A little of each. We're going to have to take a trip to the library to figure this out. What time does the London library open?"

"Early, I think. Maybe we should take Hermione with us. She'd be offended if we went to the library without her, not to mention that no one on this earth knows a library like Hermione. Should I owl her?"

"No," he said quickly. "It's early and cold. She doesn't need us to disturb her. We'll go to the library later."

Around twelve that day, after searching Harry's private collection of old volumes, Harry and Ron Apparated inside the Wizard Library of London. The sheer size of the library was enough to make even the most illiterate person stand in awe. The bookshelves stood at least fifty feet high and there were so many that they seemed to disappear into the horizon. 

"Here's a question," Ron mumbled as he followed behind Harry. "Where exactly are we supposed to look? Is there a book for weird word clues?"

"Not sure," Harry said, walking over to the card catalog. He stood there staring at the files of book titles, not knowing which one to examine first.

"Hermione is handy in libraries, you know," Ron said again. "She could probably figure out the inscription. We should ask her."

"No," Harry said again, this time more firmly. "I don't need her help."

"Did you fight with her? Is that why you left so early this morning?"

"It's none of your business," Harry explained, opening a random drawer.

"It sure is! You're my friend, she's my friend. I'm a friend of both of you!"

"Shhhhhhh!" someone in the library said.

"Oh, you go 'shhhh' yourself, why don't you!" Ron replied. "So did you fight with her?"

"Ron, please, I'm looking for a book to help me out of this dilemma. Stay and be quiet, or go." He flipped through useless titles, feeling his head ache with each dead end. Ron roughly pulled out another drawer and began searching as well.

It wasn't until two in the afternoon that Harry came across _Mythical Artifacts; a Guide to Worlds and Objects Unknown_, which was located in isle 47. Harry began marching down the tiled hallway toward it, Ron at his heel. 

"This library gives me the heebie jeebies," Ron whispered as they passed isle thirty. "It's almost too big. You think if I yelled loud enough it would echo in here? I think it would. How much farther is it? Did you bring the dagger with you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, slowing down as he approached isle 47. "Here it is." The two stopped and looked down between the two shelves.

A long wooden study table was situated between the shelves aligned with straight backed chairs. Harry started into the isle to begin the search for the book, but Ron didn't move. Harry looked back at him; he was turning red. Harry slowly followed Ron's gaze to a young woman who sat on the far end of the table. She was wearing summer clothes; a black tank top, blue jeans, and hiking boots. From what Harry could tell, she had an olive complexion, well defined arms, a good profile, slanted eyes, and shiny black hair which was pulled into a pony tail. She looked no more than twenty years of age. Harry felt himself smirking as he looked back at Ron.

"You think she's pretty?" he asked him. Ron slowly nodded at Harry, never breaking his gaze from the woman. Harry looked back at her, grinning, to examine her further. She was reading from an old book with thick, yellowed pages, while she twirled her finger through a bit of her black hair. The other hand was doodling on a scrap of parchment, her feet were tapping on the ground, and her eyes were zooming across the page. Harry started towards her, but Ron pulled him back.

"Don't _you_ talk to her!" he hissed.

The woman looked up at the two of them. They both appreciated her face now that they had a good frontal view of it. She had dark brown eyes, almost black, which were slanted upwards, suggesting that she was part Asian. Her face was thin but nearly perfect. She had full lips and a small nose. 

"Hi," Harry said cordially.

"Hello," she replied politely, then looked back to her book. Harry felt Ron stare at him with malice, but he didn't care. He was here for a book, not flirting or fighting. He started to climb the shelf ladder in search of it.

"Shelf G, row 8, E702," Harry mumbled to himself, as he slid along. "E699, E700, E701, E703... it's not here," he said. 

"What do you mean?" Ron asked in a deep voice.

Harry sighed but smiled. "I mean the book that I'm looking for isn't where it's supposed to be located." He climbed down the ladder, skipping the last step.

"Oh," Ron said, puffing up his shoulders. Harry had to look away from him to keep himself from laughing. "Do we have an alternative option?"

"Not that I know of," Harry said.

"Very well then," Ron continued, trying to stand taller. "We should probably get back to Headquarters and assess our options."

Harry was just about to laugh when the woman beat him to it. Ron's face turned cherry red faster than a traffic light as he looked at her. Harry felt embarrassed for Ron.

"Do you think something's funny, Miss?" he asked her. 

She shook her head, laughing, as a response. She resumed her reading. Harry stood on his tip toes to see the title of the book, which was on the top of the left page. _Mythical Artifacts_it read. 

"I need to borrow that book," Harry told her urgently.

"Well," she said, still smiling from Ron's words, "you'll have to wait until I'm done with it, won't you?"

"Yeah, Harry," Ron said. "Wait your turn." Harry whipped around to see Ron turn redder. The woman laughed again.

"Maybe you don't understand," Harry explained, pulling out a chair to sit across from her. "This is a serious situation I'm talking about. Let me borrow that book for a minute or two and then you can have it back. I promise I won't go anywhere with it."

She laid her arms across it and leaned forward. "Maybe _you _don't understand, but I need this book for my job so I can support myself. I'll let you have it when I'm through with it."

"Where do you work? Maybe they don't need your research right away. I need that book right now. It's a life and death situation." He smiled and purposely softened his eyes at her.

She cocked her head sideways. "I have a younger brother. I know that look, Mister. You can give me the googly, sweet eyes all day long, but I won't give you the book until I'm through with it. The sooner you leave me alone the sooner I hand it over to you." She nodded curtly then continued to read.

Harry passed loud air through his nose. "I'm Harry Potter," he said firmly. She looked up.

"I'm Vanessa Deverauex," she said, grabbing and shaking Harry's limp hand. "It's nice to meet you. Now please, let me read." She frowned at him then attempted her book once more.

Harry sat in stunned silence. Every person he met was impressed by his simple name. Their eyes would widen, their pulse would quicken, and some would even bow down to him. Why was she so different? "No," he said, "I really am."

She looked up, now with a face of mixed frustration and irritation. "Bummer," she said in a mockingly sorrowful tone. "I'll let you have the book when I'm done with it."

"Yes, but-"

"Am I speaking in an accent or something?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure it's clear English. Do you have a hearing condition? A superiority complex? Or are you so full of yourself that you have to thrust your... celebrity in my face so you can get what you want when you want it? Have you not heard what I said? I don't really care who you are. I need to read this book and you will have to wait. End of discussion."

Ron sat down next to Harry with a dreamy sort of expression. "That's a pretty name, Vanessa, is." She looked over to him, the corners of her mouth rising slightly.

"All right," Harry replied, closing his eyes, "here's the deal. I was stabbed through the heart with a knife, this knife," he said, removing it from his coat pocket, "the day before Christmas. It has some strange writing on it that I need to figure out to solve a string of crimes. I believe all my answers are in that book. Now could I please read it?"

Vanessa looked over at the knife on the table, but kept a firm grip on her book. An interesting expression passed over her face as she read the raised writing. "It's pretty magnificent," she said, her eyes landing on the large sapphire. "Ancient gold, classically cut gem, Grecian designs on the grip, a curved blade... It's more of an art piece than a weapon. I would say it was crafted thousands of years ago and preserved someplace where man couldn't find it."

Harry's mouth dropped for the second time that morning. Vanessa smirked at him. "That clue won't be found in this book," she said. 

"But you know how to decipher it?" Harry asked.

She giggled. "Maybe I do. But the cost of living these days is so _dreadfully_ high. I have to support a luxurious life style. I own three Arabian geldings. Horse feed and equipment doesn't come cheap, and it's winter time so they need more food." She tapped her fingers on the pages.

"What did you say you did for a living?" Harry asked.

"I didn't say. How desperately do you want to know about that dagger, Harry Potter?" she asked.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron, but he was staring at her. "Are you hustling me?" Harry asked her.

"Knowledge doesn't come cheap," she said. "I know what you want to know. You can offer me something or I can walk away and you can try to solve it on your own. The choice is entirely yours."

Harry sat back in the chair and stared at her. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked seriously. "I happen to be very smart and truly smart people don't give away knowledge for free. I know how to solve your little problem and I can do it as soon as you offer me something worth while. Surely you've done these kinds of trades before. You are an Auror, aren't you?"

Harry felt himself smiling at her. He was impressed. "Okay," he said, passing the knife over to her. "Name your price."

"Fifty galleons to solve it."

"Don't you think that's a little high?" Harry asked with a charming smirk.

"You want to take it some place else?" she answered back, reflecting his facial expression. "I'll take a bank note from you. I know where to find you if I can't get my money."

Harry pulled out a note from his coat pocket and wrote out a check to her. She snatched it from his hand and stuffed it in her shirt. Ron held his breath. Vanessa lifted the knife in her hands and examined the writing on both sides.

"They're reverses of each other," she said.

"I know that," Harry said sternly. "I didn't pay fifty galleons for the obvious."

"I'm not finished," she told him. "There are three words on each side, which tells me that your clue has three words. But since they're reversed on each side, they need to be moved around. It's simply a word scramble. And by my estimate, because this was made in a specific location, I'd say that's what it's trying to tell you." She set the dagger down and copied the words on a piece of parchment. She studied them for a few minutes.

Ron looked at Harry and grinned like a complete fool. Harry laughed but winked at him.

"Got it," she said.

"Well," Harry urged her, "what is it?"

"That will cost you fifty galleons," she told him, folding over her parchment so he couldn't see.

"_What_? You said fifty to solve it!" he cried.

"Yes I did," she told him. "And solved it I have. Do you want the answer?"

Ron started sniggering under his breath as Harry whipped out his notes again and wrote her another check. "You'd better be right about this," he muttered. She took it before the ink could dry then tore the answer from her parchment and handed it to him. 

He opened it and saw the words: _Show me Ithaca_. 

"Huh?" Ron said as he looked over Harry's shoulder. "What does that mean?"

Harry looked at Vanessa again to see her smiling. "Let me guess," he said to her, "I have to pay you?"

"You're such a smart boy, Harry. But because you have been so generous, I'll make you a deal."

"Let's hear it," Harry said.

"Twenty five and I'll tell you all that I know."

Reluctantly, Harry wrote one more check and handed it to her. "Ithaca was written about in Greek myth as one of the most beautiful places in the world. It appeared in Homer's Odyssey as the home and kingdom of Odysseus. It was believed to be located south of Greece on its own island. But as far as we know, Ithaca isn't real; it's just a myth. However, if this dagger is as fancy as it is, it's a good bet someone has named their home Ithaca and they want you to find it."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't even know that Ithaca is real. But you have to understand that your dagger wasn't meant to kill you, which is probably why you didn't die. Whoever stabbed you through wanted you to have that knife. This mystery has only just begun." 

Harry reached over for it and stared. "Show me Ithaca," he said to himself, tracing his finger over the sapphire.

Ron took a deep breath and reached his hand over the table. "I'm Ron, by the way," he said to her, "Ron Weasley."

She took his hand and shook it vigorously, smiling brightly with a pink twinge on her cheeks.

******

Present

******

"A weird woman came in here last night," Harry told Marc abruptly, breaking from his story. "She just came in and started talking to me."

Marc nearly leapt out of the chair. "The Indian woman! She came in here?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You know who she is? You've seen her, too? Who the hell is she?"

"I was hoping you would know. She said she met you in a manner of speaking. She's been watching us since I came in here the first day. So you have no idea who she is?" he asked.

Harry grimaced and shook his head. "I have no bloody clue. I've never met her or seen her for that matter. She's a psychologist, that's obvious. She played mind games."

"Mind games?"

"Yeah," Harry told him, "like shrinks do. But she did it way better than you did, pal. You're mind playing is, well, quite terrible, but that's beside the point. She seemed professional, you know? Like she's been at it for years and years."

"And you're sure you haven't seen her before? I've been asking around about her, but no one has a clue who she is. She was telling the truth when she talked about having met you. Maybe it was a long time ago?"

Harry cast his mind back for her, but couldn't remember ever seeing her or anyone resembling her in his life. "How old is she? She looks younger than you, in her mid thirties or something..."

"She's older than that."

"She knew my mother," Harry said silently. "She had to have known her."

"How did you come to that?" Marc asked, getting his quill ready to write.

"She said I had her eyes. The only people who've told me I had my mother's eyes were people who knew her. So she is older than thirty. She has to be in her forties or fifties at least."

Marc jotted down a few notes as Harry mulled over his thoughts. Then, seeing a wide open avenue for a new branch of thought, he asked him a question. "Harry," he said tentatively, "do you miss her? Your mother, that is?"

Harry came back suddenly. "What?" he snapped.

"Do you miss your mother? Do you ever think about her or wish she were still alive?"

A very strange expression came over Harry's face, then. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes seemed to soften so that their eminent danger ebbed away. "Not really," he said.

"What does that mean, Harry, 'not really'? Did you miss her when you were a small child?"

"Why is she relevant to my incarceration?" Harry asked, returning to his normal posture and attitude. "I thought you wanted to know about Leucosia and how I ended up here. Did you think the comment about having her eyes was a good segue into analysis of my inner child?" he asked with a cruel smirk. "Because my childhood is really none of your damn business!"

"Why not?" Marc asked.

"Because I said it isn't, that's why. The only thing you need to know about it was that I didn't have one. I grew up fast, Doctor. I don't remember my childhood, okay?"

"So you do miss her, then?" Marc pressed on. "You missed not having a mother around, didn't you? It wasn't fair that all the other boys and girls had one and you didn't, was it?"

Harry's hands clenched into fists as the temperature rose in his face. 

"There's no need to get angry, Harry," Marc said cautiously. "I know that has to be a tough issue for you. Everyone needs someone who loves them and you didn't have anyone when you were young, when you needed it the most. It wasn't your fault that you didn't. You did nothing to deserve the cards life dealt you. So back to my original question: Do you miss her?"

Harry closed his eyes and looked away. "How can you miss someone you never knew?" he asked in a forced calm.

"Then maybe not Lily personally, but the idea and concept. Didn't you long for someone of your very own? It seems like you would under the circumstances. Your cousin had a mother and a father who loved and adored him so much. What did it feel like to watch as he got it all and you suffered the loss of your mother and father?"

Harry whipped his head back around and glared with malevolent eyes. He held his head low; his black hair fell over his glasses again, and for the second time Marc had to stifle a yelp of fear.

"How do you think it felt?" he asked savagely, his body vibrating.

Marc took a deep breath and told himself to be brave. "I'm not sure, Harry. I've never been in that circumstance before. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Harry moved his head up and began laughing; his eyes stopped glowing. "You're too easy to frighten," he said with the shake of his head. "It's almost not worth the effort."

Marc stared at Harry as he laughed. He suddenly felt like he wanted to be somewhere else. He stood up. "I'm glad I can be a source of amusement for you." He gave Harry a condescending look then made his way for the passage out. But just before he got there, Harry jumped off his bed and blocked his way. He was still smirking.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked spookily.

"I'm taking a break," he replied in a strangely calm way. "I'll be back shortly."

"You're not very good at lying, Doctor," he whispered to him, moving closer to Marc's face. "Actually, you're terrible. I know exactly what you plan on doing."

"Oh?" he responded. 

"Yes. You're going to file a report about me and my sanity. You think I've lost my edge because I took fun in scaring poor pitiful you. Are you so thin skinned that you can't stand up to my verbal jabs? You have to run home and cry because the nasty Potter boy frightened you and hurt your feelings?" he asked, taunting him further by sticking out his bottom lip. "Oh," he whimpered mockingly, "bad me." He laughed again.

"You need serious help," Marc replied.

"I don't need anything," Harry said, standing taller so that he could see the top of Marc's head. "Look at that, I'm taller than you are. I never noticed that before. What do you think that means, Marcus? Does that mean I have a superiority complex and you have the Napoleon complex, or does that simply mean that I have a tall gene and you don't? The mysteries of science, eh?"

"You need someone more powerful than me to control you. Please step aside," he said calmly.

Harry roughly grabbed Marc's coat collar. "Be careful," he warned with a smile. "You said so yourself last night; I'm dangerous. I would hate it very much if I had to harm you in some way because you left."

Marc looked wildly around the room. Harry laughed again. "They can't come in here and stop me. I'm standing at the door. If they came in then I could go out."

"Are you threatening me?" Marc asked, his heart in his throat.

"You would know if I was making a threat," he replied, releasing his grip on him. He stood aside and meandered back to his bed. Three wardens rushed into the room with the whoosh of the passage. But Harry was reclining now, hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling. Marc raised his hands to the men.

"I'm all right," he told them, his heart pounding in his chest. "Harry, you won't do that again."

"No?" he asked. 

Marc ushered the wardens out and approached Harry. "No. You can't attack someone just because you don't like a question. You should also keep in mind that I can help you out of here, so you best behave yourself." 

Harry gave him a satisfied grin and started to sway one of his legs back and forth.

"Now," he started, sitting down in the chair, "why don't you continue your story. The sooner you finish the sooner I can submit my completed report to the Minister."

"The Minister has a personal grievance against me," Harry said angrily as he sat up. "I thought you were just going to submit it to a Ministry official. If you give it to the Minister, I'll never get out of here."

"So you had just found out the truth of the Dagger of Ithaca," Marc continued, ignoring Harry's remark. "Vanessa Deverauex hustled you and got you to pay her 125 galleons for vague information. Then what?"

"You know what," Harry told him. "It's all on record somewhere. I really don't understand why you need my play by play of the action."

"I'm making sure you're consistent and I'm trying to pick up clues on your personality. You told me you would be completely honest and I trust you on that. Dagger of Ithaca in your hands and you're one small step closer to your mystery. Continue."

"This is so stupid," Harry said, folding his arms in a humph.

"You're nearly done. Just get to it. Think of it like a band-aid. Pull it off quickly and lessen the pain."

"It was a few weeks before I made progress on it, you know," Harry explained.

"Start wherever you want, then."

"Fine," Harry said grumpily.

"Fine."

***************

February 12, 2004

***************

Harry drummed his fingers on his desk, his lips bobbing a smoking cigarette, his steel-toed boots clanking against his swiveling chair. He was staring at the files of the stabbing victims. Two of them he knew; they had crossed his path on occasion but nothing more. The others seemed like random killings. And what was worse, the death toll was steadily rising.

Harry was convinced that evil doers or want-to-be evil doers can never take a break. In fact it seemed as though they just wanted to irritate him and plague him with headaches just for the hell of it. Since he had returned to work in the beginning of January, the strangest things happened. Random people were disappearing from their work places and would show up a day or two later either dead or insane, humming weird and haunting tunes with their eyes out of focus.

Harry had been called in to check out each and every case of this, but no new answers or theories emerged. Harry was convinced the Black Order was in charge of the events, but there was no point to them. The murders didn't seem to fit with anything that could prove useful to an outside group.

In the mean time, when he wasn't visiting a new crime scene or filing reports about them, Harry researched Ithaca and sirens, the two clues that seemed somehow connected. He had taken one of the murder weapons from the Evidence Department and compared it with his own 

dagger. As it turned out, Vanessa Deverauex, whoever she really was, had been right about the Grecian style of art. The lion's head on his dagger and the sirens on the others were the same style, suggesting that the string of murders and disappearances were related to the Dagger of Ithaca. Harry just didn't know how.

It was as if the Black Order found sport in killing wizards, which baffled him. Voldemort wanted to rid the world of those unworthy to practice magic, or those he thought were unworthy. Muggles and Muggle born wizards were his targets, but there was a purpose to it. Harry saw no purpose in killing wizards just to kill them. He spent hours, days, and weeks trying to find a connection or commonality between each victim. The only thing he came up with, though, was useless. They all worked, they all had families, they were the typical norm. 

"Haven't bashed out your brain yet, I see," Ron said as he stood in the opening to Harry's cubicle. His shirt was un-tucked, his hair ruffled, and he had ink around his lips. "This is giving me a headache. When are you heading home?"

"Ha," Harry said, ashes dropping on his desk, "like I could go with all this on my head. I swear, why can't people do normal things like Quidditch or knitting? Why do some people need to go loony and go on a killing rampage? And why are they? Why do some people kill and others get married and have babies? I don't get it. Do they have an 'I'm mad at my father and I need to rip someone up to feel better' syndrome? Don't they know that I'll find them and put them away forever? 'Course they might get out like last year. I still can't figure out how they managed that."

"Malfoy won't talk, will he?" Ron asked.

"Draco? No. He didn't last time and I was throwing him around pretty good. I suppose I could give him another go."

Ron yawned then shook his head. "I think you should call it a night, Harry. It's late and you need to rest."

"I know what I need and what I don't need, thank you very much." He threw down a file and smothered his cigarette in his ashtray. He put his trembling hands through his hair and sighed. "What is it? Why are they doing this?"

"It's scary, though, isn't it?" Ron said, sitting on Harry's desk. "I mean we're fighting an enemy we can't even see. And they can take anyone and kill them, no questions asked. How can anyone fight that?"

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea," he yawned. Harry rubbed his eyes and ground his teeth together.

"Go home and sleep, Harry," Ron told him. "You're no use to anyone if you die of sleep deprivation. You can't carry the entire world by yourself, either, so let me help you."

Harry rolled his chair back, stood, and stretched. He pulled on his leather trench coat, felt the pockets to make sure he had his wand and keys to his motorcycle, and then walked with Ron out of Headquarters.

"Do you think I could handle a motorcycle?" Ron asked as they entered the gold elevator. Harry smiled tiredly and shook his head. "No?"

"Shouldn't you be learning how to ride horses?" Harry asked, yawning again.

Ron beamed. "Probably. But ever since I had to ride that thestral..." he shivered and cut himself off, glancing wearily at Harry. "She probably has a boyfriend," he said. "Yeah, I'm sure she does. How can a girl like that not have a boyfriend? I'm sure he's tall, bulky with muscle, and terribly good-looking. And rich. I'm sure he's rich."

The door clattered open and they walked toward the golden fountain. "She was eyeing you pretty good, Ron," Harry told him.

"Yeah?" he asked with a grin and reddened cheeks.

"Yeah. And I didn't see a ring on her finger, so she's open season. You should find where she lives and pay her a visit. You could try to get my money back, too." 

"How can I find out where she lives?"

"Bend some rules," Harry told him. "Sneak a peek at her address and go there with some flowers or something crazy like that. She can't be hard to find; she gave us plenty of information, you know, probably on purpose." Harry winked at him. "With three Arabians she'll probably be on a ranch somewhere."

"So I should look for her? Isn't that like stalking someone?"

"If you keep doing it when she tells you not to, then yes, it is stalking. But you haven't taken the first step. Just give it some thought. Now, I'm heading for my bed. See you in the morning."

Ron waved then Disapparated with a loud pop. Harry walked to the visitor's elevator and rose to the street where his motorcycle awaited him. He mounted it, put the key in the ignition, started the engine, and brought it level. He sped off.

Dobby wasn't there when Harry arrived. He left a note and a hot meal, which Harry ate quickly. Then he marched to his large bedroom, shedding the outer layers of his clothes on the way. Dobby had turned down the bed and the covers were nice and warm.. With one last yawn, Harry collapsed and pulled the heavy covers over him. He dozed off in seconds.

When he opened his eyes, however, he was no longer in his bedroom. He was lying in the middle of dark, wet grass which had a very strong scent. Harry raised his head to find that he was dressed as if it was a warm day; a white shirt and jeans. He pushed down on his hands and rose easily to his feet. 

He heard a strange but familiar sound; loud and rhythmic. 

_ Bu bump. Bu bump. Bu bump._

A heart beating. Instinctively he looked down at his chest and felt it. His heart was still there but it was off from the one beating. Harry looked around him. There, to his right, was a large silvery lion with a human heart clearly beating in the chest. It wasn't running at him, crouching low as if to pounce, or looking mildly threatening. The lion simply stared.

The beating heart stopped. Harry watched the lion as it began pacing around Harry as if surveying him.

"What are you?" Harry asked it.

No answer.

"What does this mean?" he asked again.

Still no answer.

Harry shook his head and walked toward the lion. Then Harry heard strange singing; it sounded strange, like it was a different language. Harry listened intently to it and recognized it as the tune the missing people hummed when they reappeared.

"You're the one who's killing them," Harry said to the lion, who seemed to smile and wink.

The next thing he knew sunlight was pouring into his closed eyes. He opened them to see the sun gleaming in through his balcony windows. Harry sat up and pulled his left wrist toward him so he could see the time on his watch. But when he looked down he noticed something very strange.

Harry was gripping the Dagger of Ithaca tightly in his hand. He held as if preparing to stab someone. Harry opened his hand; the raised writing had imprinted into his palm, which was red from the dagger's heat. He dropped it on the bed. The small diamond which was embedded in the loin's eye twinkled up at him then became dull.

"Harry Potter is still in bed?" Dobby said as he bounded into Harry's room. Harry broke his gaze from the dagger then looked at Dobby. "It is almost ten in the morning!"

"Ten!" Harry said, leaping out of bed and running into the bathroom. "Damn," he said as he turned on the water for his shower. By the time he finished his morning preparation and Apparated to the Ministry, it was ten thirty. He tried to sneak to his cubicle unseen, but Tonks yelled out at him as he passed.

"There you are!" she yelled, tripping over her trash bin to get to him. "The Minister was looking for you this morning and was furious that you weren't here."

"He can't fire me," Harry said indignantly.

"Who said he would? I'm just giving you ample warning for when he storms in here looking for you." She clapped his shoulder affectionately and smiled. "So, what's new with you?" she asked kindly, bobbing back and forth on her heels. "Meet anyone special lately?" she asked.

"No," Harry said with a smile. "But you apparently did, huh?"

"I have a date tonight with Remus!" she said happily.

"Oh," Harry said with a benign smile. "That's great, Tonks. I'm really happy for you."

She dropped her smile as she studied him. "Are you all right?" she asked him. "You seem gloomy all of a sudden."

"No, it's just..."

"Just what?" she asked. "Is this Black Order thing really getting at you? You'll catch them eventually, Harry, you always do. You're our resident evil fighter." She smiled at him again and swept some hair out of his eyes.

"Right," he said casually. "Well, good luck with the date. Tell him hello for me." He smiled at her then walked back to his cubicle, but someone else was already in his seat.

Janis Littlepage, the Minister's good-for-nothing secretary, was looking up at Harry with sick satisfaction. She reminded Harry of an over grown turkey, complete with a wobbling neck.

"Harry Potter," she said with an oily voice.

"Janis," he said with a nod. "You're in my seat."

"And you are very late. The Minister would like a word with you about your tardiness. He sent me down here to send you up stairs."

"Goodie," he replied flatly. Janis slid out of his chair and led the way to Minister Wilson's office. Harry didn't bother engaging Janis in conversation or asking questions. He acted tranquilly and unconcerned, which was a truthful emotion; Wilson had very little backbone. When Janis opened the door into Wilson's office, Harry gave her a fake smile and entered.

"You summoned?" Harry said to him.

"Ah, yes. Sit down, Harry," he said, pointing to a chair. Harry sat down and instantly relaxed, letting himself slide down so he was hardly sitting but reclining. "Is there a good explanation for your lateness this morning?" he asked.

"I worked late last night and over slept."

"I see," the Minister replied. "Were you forced to work late?"

"No," Harry said.

"So you chose to work late?" he asked.

Harry felt himself smirking. "Yes I did."

"So there is no good excuse for your lax entrance this morning?" he asked, now nervously twiddling his fingers.

"Doesn't sound like it," Harry said.

Wilson surveyed Harry's sitting position and frowned. "Sit up, please," he said. Harry rolled his eyes and did as told. "Harry, perhaps you're confused with the authority here. I have authority in this building and you are under it. Do you understand what that means?"

Harry was confused. This wasn't how the Minister usually acted. Wilson was always putty in Harry's hands; he did whatever Harry told him to do; he was weak and pathetic, a poor excuse for a wizard.

"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked him.

The Minister smiled. "Why yes I am. I've learned a few things since I last spoke with you. I am in charge here and you are not. Therefore, since you knew that coming in late was unacceptable, I am putting you on suspension of pay."

Harry's jaw dropped. "_What?_" he asked.

Wilson smiled happily. "Isn't it wonderful? I went to this seminar a few weeks ago and it changed my life. My wife is really enjoying the new me. So that's the deal Harry. You come in late again without a good excuse or without contacting me, I dock your pay."

"But-"

"No buts, I make the rules around here. This also means that you can't leave for months at a time without any explanation other than 'I was working.' From now on you ask me what you can and cannot do with work, even vacation time. Is that clear?"

Harry was about to complain when the door opened again and Arthur Weasley entered. 

"Arthur," the Minister said with a friendly smile. He stood up and shook Arthur's hand.

"Here's the report you asked for about the out of control umbrellas," Arthur said as he gave the report to him.

"Ah, yes, thank you ever so much."

Harry crossed his arms and looked at Arthur through the side of his eye.

"Oh," Arthur said in mock surprise, "I hope I didn't interrupt something important." Harry turned to look at him and smiled cheesily.

"You didn't," Harry told him. 

"No," Wilson said. "Harry was just leaving. I'll only dock today's pay, but if it happens again it will be a week's worth, is that clear?" he asked Harry.

Harry made a big deal of getting out of the chair and straightening his coat. "Crystal," he said. He glared at Wilson, avoided Arthur's curious stare, and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

When Harry entered Headquarters for the second time that morning, Ron berated him.

"Where were you?" he asked, walking backwards as Harry advanced.

"Having my pay docked," he replied acidly.

"What?"

"I was late this morning. Wilson docked my pay for the day because he has suddenly grown a backbone, the wart. I'm also not allowed to leave for long spurts of time because '_he's in charge around here,_'" Harry said. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "So how has your morning gone?"

"Fine," Ron answered. "Were you planning on leaving?" he said, turning back into the previous conversation. 

Harry threw himself into his chair and picked up a quill. "What am I supposed to do by just sitting here at my desk? I mean really- what am I supposed to do? I can't sit here all day long and push a quill around!"

Ron didn't respond.

"Unbelievable. What is so wrong with having a competent Minister for the Ministry, huh? Is it a requirement to be a complete bone head to be a Minister?"

"Harry it's only one day, it's not like a month."

"It's not the pay, Ron, it's the simple act."

"Well you are lax about the rules, Harry," Ron said silently.

Harry frowned at him. "Fine, Hermione," he replied sternly.

"Well, think about it. Now that he's finally showing some progress at becoming a good Minister, you're getting upset. Just don't be late again." Ron shifted uncomfortably and walked away.

Harry sighed again, still watching his empty doorway. He bent down over his parchment, and for the first time in years he felt completely useless. 

Harry made himself look busy for the rest of the day, then left at exactly five o'clock. Ron tried to engage him in what was sure to be pointless gibber jabber, but Harry shook him off by mumbling about something. 

He nearly jogged through the Atrium and urged the telephone booth to move up faster. He ran to his motorcycle and sped to his apartment, racing through red lights. He parked then Apparated to his apartment.

"Dobby!" he called once he entered. "Dobby, if anyone..." he stopped. Dobby came around the corner looking melancholy.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked him.

"M-Men came looking for Harry Potter, sir," he said in a trembling voice.

Harry frowned. "What kind of men?"

"Men asking questions, sir. Angry looking men."

"Dobby, you'll need to be more specific," he said. "What did they look like?"

But Dobby did not say. The door glowed blue and Dobby went to answer it. Ron and Hermione both came pealing inside looking very concerned. Hermione, whom Harry had only seen briefly and hadn't really conversed with since he left her house, was bordering on tears.

"Harry?" Ron said.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, looking back and forth to each.

"Haven't you heard?" Hermione asked. "Don't you know?"

Harry started to feel frustrated. "Know what?"

"There's been an accident," Ron said.

"Care to be a little more specific?" Harry asked, dropping his shoulders. His evening was ruined he could just smell it.

"The Minister, Harry," Ron explained. "He's at home."

"But...?" Harry asked.

"Dead. Silver dagger straight through his heart," Ron said. "His wife found his body at the dinner table."

Harry's shoulders fell further, his heart hammered, his breath quickened. _The Minister of Magic himself_. "The Black Order?" he said to them. "They've attacked the Minister?"

Ron looked back at Hermione then to Harry. "It appears that way."

Harry didn't like the way he said that. _It appears that way._ Then a horrifying thought entered his mind. _Well, you did fight with him, didn't you? Made a right scene in front of Weasley. He already suspects you of foul play, doesn't he? He was the one who tipped you..._ Harry whirled around to face Dobby.

"The men who came by earlier," he said to him, "were they from the Ministry?"

Wringing his hands around his lurid striped sweater, Dobby nodded.

As if in a play, there was an ominous knock on Harry's door; it did not glow a friendly blue. He glanced back at Ron and Hermione. "I had nothing to do with his murder," he told them.

"I know," Hermione said.

"'Course you didn't, Harry," Ron replied loyally.

Harry gave them feeble smiles, trying and failing to seem unconcerned. He made another about face to stare at Dobby. "Well," he said to him, "you heard them. Answer the door, Dobby."

* * *

The line "A name?" "yeah, something you go by." Is from the movie Meet Joe Black. 

If you would like to know when the next chapter of this story is to be updated, you can add my as a favorite Author (on option given to you) or add this story to your favorites and it will notify you when I have uploaded. You can also email me or leave me a review and tell me you would like to add me to my mailing list. And more still, I have a Yahoo group (the URL can't be typed on this page. If you want to find it you'll have to check out my bio page.) where I have this story posted.  
  


*And yes, to my Marauder Chronicles readers: Vanessa Deverauex is Jade's daughter. She'll be in this story much more.


	6. The Offer

Chapter Six: The Offer

Three men whom Harry had seen only in passing came into his apartment. Harry smiled politely and offered them coffee or tea; they declined with somewhat casual hand gestures. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, signaled to Hermione and Ron to sit, then engaged the men in conversation.

They skipped over formalities, telling Harry that he knew why they were here. Harry informed them that he knew about the Minister for his friends, who he acknowledged by glancing at them, had just enlightened him. Then the choppy interrogation commenced.

"Where were you when the murder occurred?" one of them asked. He whipped out a notebook and quill, not unlike Rita Skeeter's. Harry looked directly into the man's blue eyes and spoke.

"I don't know when it occurred, I only just arrived." The man scribbled down the information. "We could do this sitting down," Harry mumbled, walking over to his couch to sit next to Hermione, who instinctively took his hand - Harry didn't protest this time. 

Two of the men, the blue-eyed man as well as a bald wizard, moved closer to Harry, but did not sit.

"He appeared in his residency fifteen minutes ago, murdered," the bald one told Harry.

"Oh," Harry said with a sigh of relief. "I was on my way home."

"You drive the Harley Davidson parked in the garage?" the bald wizard asked. 

Harry nodded then looked for the third wizard. The third, a tall, lanky man, was investigating the kitchen with Dobby on his heel.

"He'll be looking around your apartment," the blue eyed wizard said, answering Harry's unasked question.

"What for?" Harry asked. "Wait, you can't think I had anything to do with Wilson's murder, can you?"

The two exchanged meaningful looks. "We're talking to everyone who saw him today, Mr. Potter. This is routine."

Harry started to rise out of his seat, but Hermione squeezed his hand and kept him down. Harry let out a breath and bit his lip. "What are your names?" he asked pensively.

"Curtis," said the bald one. The other identified himself as Michaels. 

"Well, Curtis and Michaels, is it routine to search an apartment with no justifiable cause? I'm one of your own, but I'm sure you know that." Harry looked at them over the rims of his square glasses, keeping his voice even and calm. "I'm not a suspect, am I?"

"Can anyone attest to your whereabouts while you were allegedly driving?" Curtis asked, his quill poised.

"'Allegedly'?" Harry said, his voice now rising steadily. "I suppose Muggles on the road. Look, why wasn't I called into the murder scene like I have been with all the other Black Order murders?"

Curtis and Michaels exchanged another glance. Harry was beginning to get annoyed.

"How is that you're the only one saying it's the Black Order?" Michaels asked suspiciously.

"Because they're the ones who stabbed me through the heart, remember? All right," he said, mastering himself and attempting to relax and remain calm, "I suppose you're questioning me because of the argument I had with him this morning, right? Okay," he said in acknowledgment to their head nods and murmurs. "So you're simply following orders from a higher-up in questioning me about that conversation. I understand that. But _you_ need to understand that I wouldn't harm anyone just because he docked my pay. I mean I was late this morning and the Minister, as my employer, has every right to do that. I just didn't expect it, you can understand. I mean, until recently the Minister has been pretty- well- easy to push over. Don't tell me you hadn't noticed."

Harry was pleased to see that they had; they tried to keep from smiling. "I would like to help you with this case," Harry continued. "There are a string of murders just like this one and I'm in charge of the investigations. This is my case, guys," he said calmly.

Curtis and Michaels seemed to slowly get the message. That was until the third investigator came back and whispered in their ears. Harry took the opportunity to smile at Hermione and Ron who looked edgy.

"What's locked in the cabinet?" Curtis asked after minutes of deliberation with his comrades. 

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The cabinet?" he asked.

"Yes. What's in the cabinet inside your small library full of Dark Arts volumes?"

"And defense against them!" Harry hissed.

"Yes," Michaels said with a growing smirk. "What's inside that cabinet?"

Harry hesitated and chewed his lip. "I don't have to tell you," he said to them and he felt Hermione tense. "I don't have to allow you to search anything in here. I know our laws, being an enforcer myself," he said coolly. 

"And is that your worn punching bag in the main bedroom?" the third asked.

"No," Harry said. "No, it's my house elf's. He likes to put himself on a stool after a hard and frustrating day and give it the ol' one two. He's very strong, Dobby is." He frowned at them. "Of course it's mine. Since when is it a crime to own such a thing?"

"Have you had some problems with anger management lately?" the third asked again.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. "I'm sorry," he replied with a fake laugh, "who the hell are you?"

"Blair," he answered, hands on his hips.

"Blair," Harry echoed with a head nod. "No, Blair, I haven't had a problem with my 'anger management' lately. In the past, absolutely, but lately, no. Mind you I am feeling a little anxious by sitting here and answering your accusatory questions, defending myself against your ridiculous expressions which only represent your obvious ignorance and stupidity." Harry stood up, Hermione still gripping him tightly. He was pleased to see that he was as tall as Blair. "Now, why don't you come back with a) better attitudes," he said while counting the fingers on his free hand. "B) substance behind your accusations, or c) a bloody apology!"

Curtis and Michaels looked ready to leave, but Blair, hands still on his hips, smirked at Harry. Then he turned to his two partners, nodded, and made his way for the door. Blair opened it and ushered the other two out then made to follow. Just before he shut the door, Blair added, "Watch your step, Mr. Potter, someone may be watching you." He closed the door.

Harry made a rude hand gesture at the door.

"You shouldn't have lost your temper," Hermione whined wearily, still clutching Harry's hand with both of hers. He wiggled it out and marched to his library. He checked the lock on his cabinet, assuring himself that it was still secure, and then sighed with relief.

"What's in there, anyway?" Hermione asked. Harry put a finger to his lips and withdrew his wand from his coat pocket. He then pointed it to each of the corners in the room and waited. Little glowing blue dots issued from his wand and began zooming around the room, knocking small red dots from behind books. Eventually, the blue dots rounded up the red ones into Harry's palm. He aimed his wand at them and they disappeared.

"They bugged me," Harry said. "Check the rest of the apartment," he told the blue dots. They flew silently out of the library as commanded. Harry faced Hermione again. "I collect weapons, antiques mostly, and keep them in here," he said, tapping the cabinet. "If they had opened it... I could easily be framed and I don't need that when someone already suspects me."

Hermione and Ron frowned at him.

"Who would?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders but didn't meet Ron's eye. Truthfully the only person who popped into Harry's mind was Arthur. But, after Harry pondered it for a few minutes, it seemed very unlikely. Arthur may hold a grudge but he wouldn't frame Harry for murder or suspect him of it. What disturbed him more, as it did everyone else, was that the Minister of Magic had been slain as easily as the others. 

The previous killings had seemed sporting and worthless, but the Minister of Magic as the latest victim might offer something they had missed, possibly a motive.  
  


Harry spent the next few long days looking into and researching Harvey Wilson's records and life. After he came up with nothing he examined the legislations Wilson had passed, vetoed, or sponsored. But Wilson hadn't done much, certainly not anything huge or potentially offensive.

Ron often dropped by Harry's cubicle to swap ideas and theories about the case, but neither of them could make neither heads nor tails of any of it. To make matters worse, Blair, one of the Criminal Investigators who was, as Harry later learned, a nephew of the Minister, often popped his head into Auror Headquarters to spy on Harry. He would simply glance at him and leave and make a second appearance later in the day. Harry would grin at him, sometimes he would wave or yell out loudly to him, as if he wasn't bothered. But as the weeks passed and Blair didn't abate with his nosy and intrusive behavior, Harry found it much more difficult to seem impassive. 

Harry took to shutting himself up in his room where he would thrash his punching bag in minutes, repair it by magic, and repeat the process for hours every single night. Dobby would voice his concern that Harry was getting too angry and should relax instead, but Harry didn't listen. He was too livid, to vexed to relax and simply nod off. By the time March rolled around, his insomnia began to show.

Hermione would make disapproving and concerned noises whenever she saw him. She would tell him to seek help, take some sleeping potion, or ease up on his work. "You'll get yourself sick and wind up in the hospital again!" she would say, tugging at his wrists. But she didn't understand. She had no idea. She didn't know what it was like to be trapped on all sides.

Then as the first week of spring approached, Ron came bounding over to him with news. Harry rubbed his bloodshot eyes, yawned, and laid his head back as he told Ron to tell him.

"I did it," he whispered, showing Harry a small paper. "I found out where she lives!"

Harry sat up and shook his head at him. "Found out where who lives?" he asked a little more roughly than he wanted to sound. But Ron didn't seem to notice or care.

"Vanessa Deverauex! The girl from the library. Remember you told me to find out where she lives a while back? Well I did it, Harry! Ha!"

Harry allowed himself a smirk. "Good for you, Ron," he yawned again. "So now what are you gonna do?" he asked. Ron's face dropped a little.

"Now?" he asked. "Uh- I didn't think about that. What _do_ I do now? It was your idea."

Harry perched his head on his erect hand and shut his eyes. "You should go and talk to her," he said tiredly. "Tell her about yourself. Talk about horses," he said quietly, his heavy lids closed comfortably around his sore eyes...

"I don't know anything about Horses," he heard Ron say, somewhat distantly. Harry meant to respond, but his mouth didn't really feel like moving and his brain didn't enforce it.

Ron shook him.

"What?" Harry asked rudely.

"You need to rest tonight, mate," Ron said.

"I'm fine. So. Vanessa and horses. Good stuff. Hey," he said, a thought coming to mind. "Hey, shouldn't they be selecting a new Minister by now? Hasn't it been long enough since Wilson died?"

"Yes."

"Good, I think. A new Minister should be good." He let his head fall on his hand again.

Ron shook him once more saying, "Harry, go back to your apartment and rest! Dobby's been telling Hermione what you do. We know you just work yourself up even more and don't sleep. Why are you doing this to yourself? It's been quiet recently; no one has been murdered since the Minister. So take this time to relax."

"Yeah," Harry murmured to himself. "I should," he said. "I wish that damn bloody numbskull would get off my case!" he said through gritted yet smiling teeth as Blair popped his head into Headquarters.

"He's Internal Affairs and Wilson was his uncle. He'll leave eventually- hopefully," Ron whispered to Harry.

"I hate _my_ uncle. Why can't it always be like that?" Harry said silently.

"I hope it isn't," Ron said at once.

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly remembering that uncle-hood was a strong and definite possibility in Ron's near future. "They'll like you. It'll be nice to have even more members in your family. Mathematics really works in your favor. You start out with a lot and then it multiplies." Harry stood up, feeling alert again, and then gathered his things.

"Harry," Ron said cautiously, "you know we think of you as part of ours."

Harry laughed as he pulled on his coat. "Thanks, Ron. But there are some things that can't be overlooked. Anyways..."

"Hey, that reminds me!" Ron said, pointing his finger at Harry. "We're having a huge lunch this weekend. Bill and Fleur are going, so is Charlie, the whole gang, even Hermione. You should go. It's at the house."

"I suppose its regulation," Harry told him. "Internal Affairs can't get on my case about it, can they? Count me in," he said with a tired grin. "Now I'm calling it a night. Tell Hermione that I'm turning in early; that should buy me some free nagging time."

As Harry walked out of headquarters and headed for the elevator, Blair caught on beside him.

"You're not looking so well," he told him with half a grin. Harry ignored him and entered the golden lift. 

"Up or down? It's your choice," Harry said to him, his hand on the button. Blair remained just outside the lift doors.

"I've found out some interesting facts about you, Potter," he said.

"Have you?" Harry asked, unconcerned. "Is that why you're referring to me by surname only? Working on your menacing edge, are you?"

"Having had an uncle as a Minister can be useful," Blair responded casually.

Harry nodded routinely and drummed his fingers. "I'm sure it is. Now, in or out? I'm trying to get the hell out of here for the night so please make up your mind."

Blair stepped inside and Harry pressed the Atrium button, crossed his arms, and leaned in a corner of the lift.

"You _do_ have a history of violence," Blair said as the lift rose.

"What's your first name?" Harry yawned.

"Columbus. I've talked to some of your classmates from your Auror training as well as some of your instructors." He smiled to himself, his tongue pushing out his lower lip.

"Columbus? Not a very good name is it?" Harry said first looking to the ceiling of the lift, then letting his gaze slowly drop to Blair. "'Course you're probably named after the discoverer, who actually discovered nothing. Contrary to popular belief it was Leaf Erickson, not Christopher Columbus, who discovered the Americas. And he did it hundreds of years earlier. Just thought you should know that Columbus was a bit of an idiot and didn't know what he was looking for or what he was dealing with," Harry said coolly, leaning forward for emphasis.

But Blair did not back down. "You caused a fight on your second day of training, didn't you?" he asked.

Harry smirked slightly. "I never caused, started, or participated in any fights during training. You must have talked to someone who knew a different Potter. Perhaps it was my twin." The lift doors clattered open but neither of them budged.

"Not during training, per se. The pub which was only open to second and third year students, however, reported a first year entering and dueling, the Muggle way, with some of the students who opposed his presence. They named the student, and I'm afraid it was you. Then of course there was your combat class... Quite an interesting nickname you picked up there,_Thrasher_," he said.

Harry grinned now and drew very close to Blair, mere inches from his face. "And did my instructor for my combat class tell you what a person's worst mistake was?" Harry whispered.

Blair stepped back slightly. "Yes he did."

Harry smiled and backed off. "Good. More powerful wizards than him or yourself have fallen victim because they made that mistake. Keep it in mind when you come lurking past me, will you? Now, I'm leaving." Harry clapped Blair on the shoulder and walked across the wood floored Atrium to the visitor's elevator. He did not turn to look at Blair.

The cool wind on his face only invigorated him as he drove back to his apartment. The stars were unusually bright this night, especially against the lights of the city, which stained the blackened sky with an outline of golden pink. 

A booming car pulled up alongside Harry as he waited for the light. He could hear the music growing louder as the driver rolled down his window.

"Hey!" he bellowed unceremoniously.

Harry looked at him in the side of his eye.

"So how fast does that trike go?" he asked. Other sheer morons in the car laughed at the joke. Harry ignored him. "What, 'fraid I'd pass ya? C'mon, man."

Harry looked at the cross street and watched the light turn yellow.

"You're scared, aren't ya?" the driver persisted.

Harry slowly turned to face him, fully aware that his eyes were glinting with malice. He felt a twinge of sick pleasure to see the driver and his three passengers pull back and stare at him, deeply afraid. The light turned green and Harry, his eyes still glowing as he glared at the young drivers, sped off through the intersection, leaving everyone else behind.

He parked in his usual spot in the underground lot and meandered up to his apartment.

Since he was early, Dobby was still preparing dinner. He beamed when Harry entered. He wore his usual attire; too many clothes. Harry gave him a weak smile, walked over to his liquor cabinet to pull out a bottle, then walked back to his room and shut the double doors.

He clicked on the music by simply pointing his finger at the radio and uncorked his liquor to take a few gulps. He screwed his eyes shut as the alcohol traveled downwards, already beginning to take its affect. Harry set the bottle down on the ground.

He quickly removed his leather trench coat and his buttoned shirt, then strapped tape to his knuckles. The music was loud and obnoxious, the kind Aunt Petunia would curse under her breath while her ear drums cracked. It was perfect for his mood and his purpose, however. Harry walked closer to his punching bag hanging from the ceiling, which easily weighed in at ninety pounds. He squared his feet and raised his fists, now clenched. He struck at it with his left-it quavered slightly. Then he saw Blair's face flash before his mind. Columbus Blair... Grinding his teeth, he hit it with his right, a potent electric sensation pulsating through his body- the ninety pound bag swung to the ceiling, cracked it, and swung down. 

"'History of violence,' he says," Harry mumbled to himself while continuing his attack. "It's lucky for him that I have a ruddy conscience." He whirled around and kicked the sack; it flew to the ceiling again. Harry was glad he had reinforced the large chain which it hung by with magic. In the past, the sack would fly off its hinge each time Harry struck it.

As the night progressed, his strength magnified under his frustration and anger. The punching bag kept rising to the ceiling and dropping back only to be whacked again as Harry beat it more fiercely. The music pounding in his ears, he kicked at it and pummeled it with his sore hands so relentlessly that the skin of the bag finally tore and the insides flowed from it.

Harry's arms fell to his sides and his shoulders dropped as he watched the endless flow of beans fall, spreading all over the room, rattling on the hard floor. Normally Harry would clean it up with a wave of his wand, but tonight was different. 

He heard the pattering of small feet coming behind him.

"Harry Potter has ripped it again, sir?" Dobby asked.

Without turning around, Harry nodded.

"Should Dobby clean it up?" he asked, trotting into the room to look up at Harry. "Harry Potter might slip."

"I'll clean it, Dobby," he said gloomily. He retrieved his wand, waved it around, and the bag was repaired. Dobby ran and jumped on a chair so he could be more level with Harry.

"Why is Harry Potter so sad, sir?" he asked.

Harry began un-taping his hands. He could feel the cold air from outside freezing his sweat on his face and chest. His glasses were fogged with heat; he took them off and rubbed his weary eyes. Funny colored shapes appeared as he pressed against them; the beating of his second heart drummed loudly in his ears; his sweat soaked hair parted as his quaking fingers passed through it, pulling the skin on his face.

Dobby silently removed himself from the chair and retreated to a more secure location. 

But Harry did not explode into a raging temper as Dobby expected. Instead he scratched the back of his neck, closed his eyes, and heaved a great sigh. Then he bent down to grab his bottle and meandered back into his living room to crash in his chair. He heard Dobby's socked feet scamper back into the room.

"Would Harry Potter like his dinner now?" he asked with a cheerful smile. 

Harry drank some more, feeling more tired by the second, then nodded. When Dobby trotted off to the kitchen, Harry noticed his door glow blue; a friend had come. He didn't bother Dobby; he pushed himself out of his chair to answer it. 

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said tenderly with a very gentle smile.

"I promise I'm going to bed soon, so please don't-" he started wearily.

"I didn't come here to lecture," she said. "I promise I won't." She smiled more widely at him. Harry opened his door fully and stood aside; she strode through. Hermione didn't say much as she stared at him. 

"Hello Miss Hermione," Dobby said graciously when he saw her.

"Hi, Dobby," she replied. She glanced at Harry with worry and walked to him. "Ron said that Internal Affairs guy is starting to get to you," she said mildly, stopping before him. 

"Ron's right," he whispered with a steady nod. "How can he think I would kill anyone?" he asked. "Why would I kill..." He removed his glasses and rubbed his face. He sensed Hermione walk closer to him then he felt her warm arms around him. He sighed again and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on hers.

"I know you had nothing to do with any of it," she whispered in his ear, squeezing him.

"Thank you," he said back.

She pulled away so she could look in his face, resting her forearms on his chest. "You'll get through this. You've been in much worse circumstances before," she said encouragingly. "It's not as if this Blair is any worse than Umbridge."

Harry felt his lips turn into a smile. "No," he said, "he's certainly not that bad." Hermione smiled again. A bit of her curly hair was falling into her eyes as she looked upon him. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. "I'm going to have dinner then bed. I need to sleep before I shut down completely," he mumbled.

"That's what I've been saying, but-" she stopped when Harry dropped his head. "Sorry," she whispered. "I promised I wouldn't, and I'm sorry. You go have dinner then sleep, like you said." She began to leave but Harry held her back.

"You want to stay for dinner? I'm sure Dobby's made enough," he said. "I don't like eating alone," he added.

Hermione checked with Dobby, who nodded, then glanced back at Harry and took his offer. She set places for them, told Harry to sit down, then sat beside him. Dinner, as it turned out, surprised Hermione very much. Dobby served Harry toast with peanut butter on top, a glass of milk, and apple wedges. Hermione's questioning expression made Harry laugh.

"I was introduced to peanut butter a while back, during training. I kinda fell in love with it so I've been importing from the States ever since. It's hard to find otherwise," he explained.

Hermione laughed quietly. "You put it on apples, too?" she said, watching Harry spread peanut butter on the apple slice. "That's a bit strange."

Dobby came back in with a regular sandwich for Hermione. Harry waited until she had taken the first bite before he began his meal. They ate in near silence as Harry was beyond exhausted; he had to lean his head on his hand to stay awake.

"So I guess Ron has an interest," Hermione said, setting down her glass of water.

"Interest?" Harry said, shaking his head.

"This Vanessa woman the two of you met at the Library a few months ago," she told him. Harry thought he sensed mild hostility in her voice, but he ignored it.

"Oh, her. What did he tell you about her?" Harry yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"He said she was beautiful mostly, and that she conned you, which I think he found attractive. He also said she was smart and likes horses. Uh, he asked me what he should do about her, seeing as how 'I'm a girl.'"

Harry smirked at her. "And what did you say?" he asked, folding his hands on the table.

"I said he should see her first, get to know her a little, start off as friends. When I left him he was pacing around the room with a green face, talking himself into it," she said with a grin. Harry laughed. Ron hadn't had much luck with dating lately, primarily because he would freak out and work himself into a state about the possibility of rejection. Harry could imagine Ron looking into a mirror as he practiced his introduction and conversations with Vanessa. He would probably stay up all night working on it.

"That was nice of you," Harry said, his eyes lids falling. "So Ron's having this picnic thing on Sunday, right? He said you were going."

"Yes, I am going, and you are too." Harry nodded. "Good. I think you should work on the friction between you and Mr. Weasley, Harry. I mean everyone knows it wasn't your fault. He's being ridiculous about the entire episode, carrying it on for years after. Ron told me Arthur might be selected as Minister," she added somewhat cumbrously.

Harry's eyes popped open. "Come again?" he said.

Hermione spoke carefully, folding her napkin with her fingers. "That's what Ron told me. The Lieutenant Minister, who's been acting as the Minister these past weeks, brought up Arthur's name as a possibility. There's much more to the process, of course, but he's been nominated for the position. Some of me would think it quite ironic that it could be him, considering Fudge's attitude toward him." 

Harry pulled out his chair and stood up. Hermione did the same. "I need to get to bed, Hermione. Thanks for staying with me; it was really nice of you," he mumbled. "So I'll see you on Sunday?" he asked.

"Yes. Harry you know that if you ever need to talk to someone, anyone about anything, you can trust me," she said, grabbing his wrist.

Harry looked at her momentarily and nodded very slightly. He pulled his hand free, took up their plates, and carried them to the kitchen. Hermione hugged him once more, bid farewell to Dobby, and departed. Harry told Dobby to leave after everything was cleaned up, then he walked to his bedroom, pulled off his t-shirt, shoes, socks, and pants then fell on his bed. The moment he pulled his heavy covers over him, he drifted off...  
  


He was lying in the wet grass again- birds were flying over head in the bright blue sky. Harry turned over on his stomach and pushed himself off the grass. He was standing somewhere vaguely familiar to him; trees and hills surrounded him. When he took his eyes away from his surroundings and brought them level to the ground, he found the lion again. It had the exact shape of a real lion only it was a shimmering silver with a glowing red heart beating inside it. It was pacing around him.

"What the hell is this?" Harry asked, watching the lion tread in a circle. The lion paused to peer at Harry, who kept eye contact. "Well?" he asked.

Then the lion walked forward, leaving Harry behind, but he followed it. It lead him to a thick, stumpy tree which appeared to be quite old. The lion observed him once more, then cocked his head at the tree. He jumped up on it as if stretching, but then sat down beside it, watching Harry.

"Now what?" Harry asked it.

The lion shifted his silver eyes to Harry's hand.

Harry slowly dropped his gaze at it, too. There, in his palm was the Dagger of Ithaca, positioned as if Harry were to wield it as a weapon. He brought it forward so he could examine it. The translucent edges of the blade scintillated in the sunlight while the handle felt hot in his hand. 

The lion roared at Harry to get his attention. When he broke his stare with the dagger, Harry saw a thin line appear down the center of the old tree. Harry's mouth opened as he walked toward it, his hand holding the dagger that suddenly rose. When his foot hit the tree's trunk, he plunged the blade into the top of the thin line- the dagger suddenly became very heavy and pulled Harry's hand down the line the tree. Once it hit the bottom, the tree split open, but instead of falling to the ground, a vortex unfolded- bright light poured out of the fisher and warmed Harry faster than a bonfire. There was singing- beautiful, haunting singing- he could smell, almost taste the ocean as he stood there- he wanted to walk inside, but as he opened his eyes he found himself staring at his apartment ceiling, the sunlight blinding him.

Harry sat up quickly, noting once more that the dagger was clutched tightly in his left hand. He dropped it on the floor where it landed with a numbing thud. Harry pulled the covers off him, leapt out of bed and ran into his bathroom. He braced his hands on the edge of his sink then looked in his mirror.

_ What had he seen? Why did a silver lion with Harry's heart visit him in his dreams? What had he opened in that tree? What did the Dagger of Ithaca actually do?_ Somehow during his intense musing, Harry managed to shower and dress but he didn't feel rested; quite the contrary, he felt more exhausted than he had ever been. But even with his mind as tired as it was, it still found the energy to ponder the dream. He was sure that the dagger which was plunged into his own heart served a greater purpose, as Vanessa Deverauex had said. But he didn't really know what that purpose was.

It was a bright spring day without a single cloud in the sky. Harry pulled on a light jacket, ate a small breakfast, and Disapparated. He appeared on a pier to await a ferry. He could see the dark outline of Azkaban just ahead of him.

After the ferry pulled up, Harry boarded, sailed to the prison, and then jumped off the ship before it came to a complete stop.

Haden, the lead security guard, approached him. He asked why Harry was there, but he didn't answer specifically, only that he wished to question Draco Malfoy once more. Haden led Harry to Draco's cell, which was one of the most heavily guarded in Azkaban.

"Would you like my wand?" Haden asked Harry.

"No, I don't need it," he mumbled. Harry entered Malfoy's cell. It was musty and dim inside, only a small patch of broken light hit the dirty, black granite floor. Draco was huddled in a corner of the cell; his blonde hair was longer and quite tangled. Harry cleared his throat; Malfoy snapped his head up.

"What do you want?" he snarled. Draco had since grown a bit of a beard and had lost a good deal of weight and energy.

"I know about the Black Order," Harry told him calmly.

Draco turned his body to face Harry but he remained in his corner. "You think you know," he drawled. "You're still in the dark."

Harry drew closer to him. "Tell me about Ithaca," he commanded. 

Draco raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. "Ithaca?" he said. "My father must have given you the message," he sneered. "I wish I could have seen you fall to the ground and suffer. Did it hurt a lot, Potter? Please tell me he tortured you with it."

Harry narrowed his eyes but did not rise to anger. "That was planned?" he asked.

Draco nodded slowly, his eyes locked on Harry's. "She wanted to get your attention," he explained. "I see that she has."

Harry stepped even closer and crouched down to be level with Draco. "Who wanted my attention?" he asked, his heart rate accelerating. "Who, Draco?"

But he only sneered.

"Tell me," he insisted. "Tell me, who is the leader of the Black Order?" he asked, seizing Draco's shoulders.

"A powerful sorceress," Draco answered slowly as if trying to keep it locked inside.

"Where is she?" Harry pressed on. "How do I find her?"

But Draco kept his stiff, false smile and would not answer Harry.

He left Malfoy's cell without another word to him or anyone else in Azkaban. Once back on the pier away from the prison, Harry Apparated to the library in London and ran to isle 47. He pulled down the book he had wanted before and skimmed its pages.

But Vanessa had been truthful; the book provided no answers. _But she knew. She knew all about Ithaca and the dagger. _He shut the book and placed it back in its slot. _She wasn't surprised to see you... who is she really?_ Harry Disapparated again and appeared in the Ministry. He walked briskly to Headquarters and started filing through residential names until he came upon the one he sought: Deverauex, Vanessa. Harry was correct; she lived in the country.

Harry Disapparated once more and appeared just outside a small, white cottage. A stable was adjacent to it where three white horses looked at him curiously. Harry approached the main door of the house and knocked. He thought he heard a man's voice inside, then he heard footsteps gradually getting louder- the door opened.

"Well if it isn't Harry Potter," Vanessa said. "What a pleasant surprise," she said cheerfully, her smile widening. Harry was just about to respond when Ron came to the door looking perplexed.

"Ron?" Harry asked.

"Harry?" Ron said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was- I came to ask her some questions about Ithaca," he said. He didn't ask Ron why he was there.

"I told you everything I knew. It's mythical, remember?" Vanessa said. She opened the door to allow Harry in. "You could look to Homer for more information. I have a copy if you would like to buy it," she suggested, her eyes widening slightly.

"No," Harry said. "I want some questions answered for free. Like how did you know it- well- why weren't you surprised to see me? You acted like you knew who I was."

"I do know who you are," Vanessa answered as if she was already bored by Harry. She backed away from him and walked to a bookshelf.

"No, it was different," Harry explained. "Most people react when they meet me. You treated me like I was a friend or something." 

She pulled out a photo album and started back to Harry as she flipped through it. "You don't like people treating you like a friend?" she asked. "I would think you would. I suppose you came here suspecting me of something, then?" she asked.

Harry glanced at Ron, who's expression was difficult to read, then back at Vanessa who's expression was clear; she appeared quite perturbed.

"Not suspecting really. More like curious."

She nodded curtly then flipped the photo album around so he could see it. Harry took it from her to examine an old photograph. There, smiling and waving up at him were three of four people he recognized. His father, who was holding his mother closely, was dressed in a fancy suit and she in a white gown. Her wedding dress. Standing next to them was Sirius, looking handsome and happy. He was holding onto a young Asian woman who closely resembled Vanessa. "She's my mother," Vanessa said, pointing to her. "She was Lily's Maid of Honor. They were best friends since their first year at Hogwarts. She still talks about her sometimes, always highly. Does that explain a few things?" she asked, her arms crossed.

Harry suddenly felt rather guilty for suspecting Vanessa of any foul play. He turned a few pages to see more pictures of Vanessa's mother, many of them with Sirius and a few of them with a small baby that Harry recognized as himself. She appeared to be very kind with him; a few pictures showed her kissing the baby.

"Is she still alive?" Harry found himself asking.

"Of course," Vanessa responded. "She lives a few miles from here with my dad and my younger sister and brother. They're still in Hogwarts. Mum gave me the album because she didn't want to have it in the house. She says it makes her sad to look in it, but she didn't want to get rid of it. You see, she and Sirius Black, well, they were engaged until... you know what."

Harry looked up at her. "Engaged?" he asked.

"Yeah. Luckily for me it never happened, I mean imagine the world without me in it," she said with a slight smile. Ron laughed, his ears turning red.

But Harry didn't join in the laughter. He kept staring at the woman holding him as an infant. "She's a good person, is she?" he asked, now looking at a photo of her playing with baby Harry.

"The best. She's got this wall in her studio, she's an artist, that has all of our hand and foot prints on it. I remember doing it when we were still little. She says she can never move out of the house because of them," she said with a reminiscent smile. "Yeah, Mum's great."

"You have a sister and brother," Harry whispered.

"Yeah. Are you all right?" she asked, taking the album away from him.

"I'm sorry I bothered you," he told her, keeping his eyes cast downwards. He started to leave.

As Harry was turning the knob2 to her door, fully aware that she and Ron were watching him closely, she said, "Mum told me she asked for you, but Dumbledore said no. She _does not_speak highly of him."

"Oh," he said to himself, not looking at Ron or Vanessa. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ron." He opened the door and Disapparated before anyone could ask him another question.

******

Present

******

Harry paused. "I'd like some water," he told Marc. "We're reaching the climax you know." He smiled and drummed his fingers on his knees.

Marc nodded, looked to the wall, then back at Harry. "Vanessa Deverauex was telling you the truth. Since your stay here she's come to ask about you, so we did some background on her. Her mother, Jade Yang, graduated in the same class as your parents and Sirius. She was also engaged to him, like Vanessa said, but she was never appointed as a godmother to you."

"I figured that out for myself," Harry told him shortly. "But that wasn't exactly an issue, was it? Dumbledore wanted to keep me safe from Voldemort and his supporters. He wanted to keep me alive," he said. Marc thought he detected a slight bitterness in Harry's tone.

With a great _whoosh_ someone entered with a tall glass of water and handed it to Harry. He drank the entire glass in one sitting then lay back on his pillow.

"You wish Dumbledore would have allowed Jade to care for you, isn't that right?" Marc asked. "She would have raised you well?"

Harry shut his eyes and clenched his fists. "He wanted to keep me alive," he hissed, his eyes screwed shut. "He actually had the nerve to say he cared about my happiness," he continued. "But he didn't give a damn about my happiness, only that I would live to save the damn world."

There was certainly bitterness now. Marc jotted down a few notes on his pad but kept watching Harry. "I thought you admired Dumbledore," he said. "He's very fond of you."

"It's because of him that I-" he started, but cut himself off. He opened his eyes and looked at Marc.

"Because of what?" Marc asked, curiosity pumping through him.

"I'm... like this," he said simply. "It's because of Dumbledore. I'm like I am because of him."

Marc raised an eyebrow but didn't pressure Harry. He had a strange feeling that Harry meant something else by his angered statement. "Oh," he replied. "Do you not like the way you are?"

Harry considered the question for a moment. "Let's just say I'm amazed I still have friends. Sometimes I don't understand why they keep coming back. I suppose that has changed, though, since I hurt her..." He peered at Marc and sat forward. "I didn't mean to hurt her," he explained desperately. "She's the only one who's always stood by me; I wouldn't ever want to hurt her, you have to understand," he said. "I didn't mean to."

And for the first time Marc saw something of sadness and remorse in Harry's face, an emotion he nearly assumed he didn't possess. He felt himself feeling sorry for Harry as he sat there, trapped.

"I know you didn't," he said. "I talked to Hermione a few days ago and she knows you didn't mean to hurt her. She knows."

Harry sighed with relief. "Good. So we're almost done here," he said, smiling genuinely now. Marc smiled back.

"You're right. Is there anything you would like to tell me before you finish the final heat?" he asked kindly.

"Only that I had nothing to do with Minister Wilson's death. Columbus Blair seems to have it in for me, but I swear I had nothing to do with it."

Marc smiled again. "I don't think you did, Harry. I'm sure you're innocent of that. I know that even if you tend to come off scary at times, you have good intentions somewhere inside you."

Harry smiled more greatly. "So you're not going to commit me for life?" he asked.

"That was never the plan. I think you have some issues, mainly regarding your childhood which you don't want to discuss with me, that need to be resolved in some way. It's the most important time in all our lives. It determines many of our behaviors and actions. But there is no excuse for violent behavior, do you understand that?" he asked, looking at Harry. "There are explanations, certainly, but never an excuse."

"I know," Harry said.

Marc knew that the only reason Harry was behaving appropriately was because he wanted to end on a high note, but he wouldn't forget what Harry had done or said to him...

"Fine," Marc replied, pulling out a new piece of parchment. "How about we finish this tale? The sooner it's completed, the sooner I can file my report."

"Yes," Harry said with another sigh of relief. "I desperately want out of here."

*************

March 21, 2004

*************

The first day of spring lived up to its name. The sky was clear and spectacularly blue; not even the smog of London seemed to conquer over it, which it usually did. The breeze that wafted through Harry's open windows was crisp and pleasantly cool. Harry poured himself a cup of coffee and shuffled out to his balcony to enjoy the morning.

As he looked down into the city he noted many people attending church today, as it was Sunday. They were dressed in their best, their cars were clean, and most of them were with their families. Harry sipped his steaming coffee and checked his watch. Ron hadn't said what time his pow-wow was so Harry decided he would pull up around noon, though he was dead tired. In the meanwhile Harry thought it would be a good idea if he worked on relaxation rather then putting himself through tension. He sat outside on a lounge chair and stared at the sky trying to relax his mind. 

Only he couldn't. The silver lion would cross over his thoughts and lead him to that tree even when Harry would concentrate on something completely different. By the time the clock struck ten, Harry found himself both angry and frustrated, his mind too full and busy with theories, hypotheses, and scenarios. He abandoned his morning meditation and walked into his bedroom to change into running apparel. After a brief stretch, Harry ran down stairs to the street to continue his run.

He heard numerous cat calls from women as he raced by, his feet pounding on the pavement. He tried, for once, to be part of the city scene and involve the everyday noises and visuals into his mind. It helped somewhat but eventually the lion prowled again. He suspected the reason he couldn't completely block it from his mind was the same reason he couldn't stop a dementor right away; some part of him was deeply curious about the lion. But a nagging voice would always tell him: _The stabbing was planned. Draco knows about it... he probably knows about the dream as well. He wants you to follow it. If your enemy wants you to see something, perhaps you shouldn't be so anxious. Remember the Department of Mysteries...?_ Yes, he would think. Then he wondered if he was being paranoid...

Harry returned to his apartment shortly before twelve. He showered, dressed appropriately for the spring weather, and started out- he stopped before he reached his door. _Take it with you_. Harry whirled around and snatched the dagger from his counter; he pocketed it.

It was a forty five minute drive from London to Ottery St. Catchpole, so Harry didn't reach the Burrow until well after noon. Supposedly the entire Weasley family would be here, but Harry only saw Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione. They all welcomed him with smiles and cheerful words.

"Glad you could make it, Harry!" Fred said. Harry saw that he had many more freckles than the last time Harry had seen him.

"How's the ol' ticker?" asked George, pointing to Harry's chest.

"It's working," Harry replied. "Thanks for seeing if I was all right that day," he said, referring to the day Harry awoke back in December. "It was really nice of you."

"Don't get all mushy on us, Harry," Fred said with a scowl.

"Yeah, it's not as if you were all together normal."

"Damn funny, though," Fred said with a reminiscent smile.

"Did you really see Sirius while you were conked out?" George asked.

"Weird stuff if you did."

Harry didn't respond. He was glad Hermione greeted him with a strong hug and a smile. Ron looked anxious about telling Harry something, which he assumed had to be concerning Vanessa. They informed Harry that the picnic would take place in the backyard where they had dinner once in Harry's fourth year.

Ginny was expected around one, Charlie was arriving shortly, Bill and Fleur were held up with wedding plans, and Percy, to Harry's dismay, showed up just after he did.

"I should think Father would make Minister, seeing as how I have quite an influence in that office," Harry heard him say as Percy rounded the house corner and walked to the table. "He's really rather busy at the office today, naturally, with it being so chaotic. He informed me, however, that he would try to make it for lunch." He sat down directly opposite Harry apparently not noticing him.

"Columbus Blair, my friend in Internal Affairs, says the investigation into Wilson's death is going quite well. He's already gathered a list of some suspects and he believes he'll apprehend the perpetrator in good time," he said. No one else responded to Percy. Hermione, who had been aiding Fred and George with the lunch, came and sat next to Harry.

"When will those two grow up?" she asked, vexed. "They were fighting with tongs and nearly poked each others eyes out," she told Harry. Then Percy rounded on him.

"I didn't know _you_ were coming," he said to Harry, his eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

"Harry has always come to our family events," Ron said, sitting on Harry's other side.

"I just haven't seen you for so long, Harry, not since your graduation. You've grown up quite a bit, I see." He smiled condescendingly at him.

"Age has a tendency to do that," Harry replied trying desperately to keep his cool. He realized that, with Percy here and Arthur expected to arrive in a few hours time, attending a family event where he wasn't entirely welcome was a disastrous mistake. "But you haven't changed at all," he told Percy.

Percy didn't waver. "Anything new with you, other than internal investigations into you?" he asked Harry.

"No, actually. Nothing new," he said, his eyes boring into Percy's. Fred and George came and sat down, their hair smoking slightly.

"What happened?" Hermione asked them.

"Pardon?" Fred said.

"What happened to your hair?" she asked, pointing to Fred's singed hair tips.

"Hair?" George said, looking taken aback.

"Don't play stupid with me," Hermione replied, slamming her fist on the table. "You two were playing with fire, weren't you?"

Fred and George exchanged looks, and then George replied. "You know, Hermione, we're adults now; you can't boss us around."

"Yeah, you're not Prefect Hermione anymore."

"Can't dock house points anymore either." Fred stuck his tongue out at her.

"Did you or did you not make sport with fire?" she asked threateningly. 

"If we did, what would you do?" George asked. 

"Yes, I'm curious about that as well, Hermione," Percy piped in. "It's not as if you can tell Mother about them, seeing as how she's been dead for eight years. Only she would have cared about Fred and George's delinquency. I'm positive she wouldn't think too highly of your attitudes toward life. But I wasn't with her when she was murdered so tragically," he added with a glance at Harry.

Fred, George, and Hermione stopped bickering. Harry felt Percy and the twins look at him, but he tried concerning himself with an imperfection in the wood table.

"What was the last thing my mother said, Harry?" Percy asked him. "I mean, it was you she was killed over. Did she say anything to you?"

Fred and George focused on Harry's reaction.

"There wasn't much time for farewells," Harry said, working hard to keep his voice even. He felt Hermione's hand on his under the table. She clutched on and squeezed. 

"Of course," Percy continued. "It was a futile question. She would have only said something meaningful to one of her children, and Harry, you never were."

"That is uncalled for," Hermione snarled at Percy. "I happen to recall that one of her sons disowned her because she was fighting evil. And during that time, Percy, Molly considered Harry as her own. So why don't you take your arrogant, vengeful accusations away from Harry and place the blame on Voldemort, the wizard you denied even existed for a year, and whom Harry killed once and for all so no one else will lose family members."

"That's right," Ron said on Harry's other side. "You were the one who abandoned us. You only came back after mum died because you couldn't and still can't admit you were wrong. Harry killed You-know-who single handed."

"You're absolutely right, Ron," Percy said, still staring at Harry. "Harry did kill him single handedly. But that's all he can do, isn't it, ight, fight, fight? What else are you capable of, other than a predisposition and strong aptitude for violence?" he asked.

Harry rose out of his seat, laid his hands on the table, and leaned over it. "How about saving this ungrateful world?" he whispered sinisterly. "You are not the only one who lost someone, Percy. I know for a fact that my fatality count is much higher than yours." He pulled back entirely, left the table, and started toward some wooded area.

"Harry wait," he heard Hermione behind him. He stopped and whirled around. "Percy's an arrogant prat, okay? Ron, Ginny, and I all know-"

"I'm tired of being blamed by him and his damn father for something I couldn't help!"

"I know," she said gently. "I know."

Harry felt his eyes burn. "Please leave me alone," he said turning his back to her. "I'm tired of talking about this. I'm going for a walk."

"Harry you can't run away from it," she called after him.

"I'm not running. Please leave me for a while, all right?" He made his way through the trees without her response. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, mumbling to himself. He felt the dagger in his left pocket; he clenched his hand around it.

He picked up his pace, replaying Percy's words in his head. He was so distracted, though, that he caught his foot on a rock, which caused him to trip. Harry tried catching himself, but the hill wouldn't allow it. He tumbled down a few feet to the bottom of the grassy hill, landing on his back. He could feel the wet grass soak the back of his shirt. A few crows flew over his head, squawking as if mocking him.

"Shut up," Harry mumbled. He flipped over, feeling the Dagger of Ithaca in his left hand, and pushed himself off the ground. But when he lifted his head to look forward, his breathing stopped; his heart pounded in his ears.

The tree- the tree he had dreamed of stood before him. Harry looked at the wet grass below him, the blue sky above him, then saw the dagger in his left hand poised for a strike. _He had to finish his recreation_. Why, he had recreated most of his dream accidently, might as well complete it. Harry realized he was moving toward the tree, his left had raised. One of his feet collided with the trunk.

His heart quickening, Harry plunged the dagger into the tree; it slid in easily and gained weight which pulled his hand downwards. 

A blinding light poured from the expanding fisher in the tree, accompanied by a warm, wet breeze which smelled strongly of the ocean. Something inside Harry told him to walk through it; but he didn't need the voice- he wanted to go through it. Something on the other end was enticing him, luring him inside. Before his logical self could debate this decision and desire, Harry stepped inside.

He was no longer standing on grass or firm ground. Harry was waist high in warm ocean water. Frowning, he turned around; he could see a sliver of trees and grass slowly disappear, just to be replaced by more ocean and blue sky. He passed his hand through the spot he had just walked through- it was only air.

"Don't panic," he told himself, slowly pivoting around in the warm water. "Don't panic," he told himself again as he kept viewing endless ocean. "You have this under con-" but he silenced himself when he had completed an a hundred and eighty degree turn. His mouth fell open in shock while his gaping eyes took in the site which stood before him.

Carved out of an immense cliff side, which seemingly hovered above a magnificent cascading waterfall, was a beautiful and shining palace complete with great pillars, beauteous statues and sheer paramount size which dwarfed any building Harry had seen. 

For a moment he waded in the water and stared, but then his logical side finally caught up with him; he slowly began the journey for it.

The water became shallower as he drew closer to the palace. The cascading waterfall pounded the large boulders below it. Harry stopped and looked around, searching for some clear entrance.

"_Over here_," an enticing voice whispered from his right.

He stepped up onto the stone platform and broke off into the direction the voice came from. It led to an open crevice on the side of the waterfall. Harry sidestepped into it and found himself in a dark yet warm cave; he could feel his clothes begin to dry. Shortly up ahead was an immense marble staircase. Taking a deep breath and withdrawing his wand, he moved forward.

The moment he emerged from the cave's darkness, a white light shone on him from above. Squinting and shielding his eyes, he cast his head skyward. Great gaps in the stone, purposely carved out by the looks of it, were allowing the unusually bright sunlight to pour inside the palace. Harry continued up the stairs until he came to the top where a familiar creature stood in his path.

A sphinx paced the entrance of the palace, marching to and fro from great pillar to pillar. When it saw Harry, it smiled and sat before him. Like the last one Harry had seen, this sphinx had the face of a woman with almond shaped eyes. 

"Er," Harry said unintelligently in hopes it would pose him a riddle to solve. She opened her mouth.

"_Reflections bend against you._

_Mirrors tell of lies._

_But this parallel dimension_

_Is only for the wise._

_For men of your world are shallow,_

_Faithless and untrue._

_But my lady of this realm_

_Knows the real value of you._

_Enter not as conqueror,_

_Hero, or sovereign man;_

_Go to her with fear_

_And listen to her plan._"

Harry's eyes widened. "Parallel dimension? Do I have to solve anything?" he asked. 

The sphinx shook her head and stood aside, allowing him to enter. He wet his upper lip with his tongue and walked inside. It seemed like he was walking in shadow for several minutes before he came upon a very large and tall room with glass and silver statues on the walls and ceiling, which depicted several mythical creatures. The floor was an illuminating white; the tall ceiling sparkled like ice. To his right a spiraling staircase descended from the towering ceiling, and to his left was an equally large hallway.

Then he heard it again- a beautiful and seductive voice which sang to him and him alone. Harry's eyes closed and he sighed blissfully as her voice washed over him. But the singing was interrupted by a soft footfall. He opened his eyes.

The silver lion, the lion with a red human heart beating within him, stepped down the stairs. Harry readied his wand but stopped himself when he saw a fair white hand slide down the banister.

Harry's eyes moved up the long fingered hand to the smooth arm, a bare shoulder, and a spectacular face of a woman. He could hear his heart beating inside his ears while he took in her entire figure. 

She was draped in a shimmering silver robes, only they looked more like a gown. Her silver white hair was pulled back into a bun, which was held to the top of her head with some kind of jewel. Her eyes were a misty gray, which in some light appeared silver. Her nose was small but straight, and her open lips were a soft pink.

As her foot landed on the bottom of the staircase, she pulled her gaze from her lion, which she stroked absently, to Harry's face. Her singing ceased and was replaced by a momentary silence.

"So you have found me," her seductive voice rang as her glistening grey eyes rest on his.

Harry suddenly found himself breathing again; apparently he had paused as she descended the steps. Her white skin glowed wonderfully as she smiled benignly at him.

He took a small step back and gripped his wand, but did not raise it.

"Yes," he whispered to her, hardly blinking.

She continued to pet her lion, still staring at Harry. "I had confidence you would succeed in discovering me. Curiosity is inborn within your searching soul."

"Sure," Harry replied questioningly, eyeing her with great suspicion.

She smiled again and took a small step forward. "Your fear is appreciated. Long has it been since you have beheld such a mystery as I. Your thoughts are spoken by the doubt and concern upon your face."

Harry took a few more steps back and raised his wand.

"You need not concern yourself with the magical instrument. I will not bring you physical harm. Unsheathing your weapon will only lose us time," she said, sweeping her hand across the air.

Harry didn't lower his wand. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am the one you seek, Harry Potter," she explained quite calmly.

Harry stepped back again and shook his head, squinting into her silver eyes. "I wasn't looking for anyone," he told her.

She tilted her head slightly. "There is no necessity to withhold the truth. You have sought the power which sunk my dagger into your vigorous heart. I am such a power."

Harry gasped but relaxed his grip on his wand. "You're the leader of the Black Order," he muttered, staring into her haunting face.

Her eyes sparkled when she smiled at him. "The Black Order are my pawns. It was I who selected them to execute my trivial bidding, but I am not their leader. I bequeath upon them my lesser powers. Generally they carry on with their meaningless lives wreaking disorder for their own primitive amusement. That is not my purpose." She laid her hand on top of the lion's head and stroked his mane.

Harry frowned. "And just what is your purpose?" he asked.

"Only to attain my worthy position," she answered evenly.

Harry stared at her then rolled his eyes and laughed. "You want to rule the world? Is that all? You want to be queen of all you see, eh?" He shook his head at her. "Well, princess, you may have noticed that people keep trying for that position, but it never happens. Voldemort tried that, too. His downfall will be just like yours," he said, glancing quickly at his wand.

This time she laughed. "Voldemort was a fool. He was careless, rash, and constantly referred to himself in third person. He knew nothing of human beings and their innate nature. He cloistered himself within his wallowing self pity and expected prime results. And he spawned more enemies than allies; he broke the rules of leadership." She stepped closer to him.

"You can't rule the world," he told her seriously, but smirking. "No one can. It's impossible. It's been tried for thousands of years but never achieved. You're wasting your time."

She turned her back to him and strolled out towards a garden Harry hadn't noticed when he first arrived.

"I did not state any notion of ruling the world," she said, peering at him. She disappeared from view, the lion by her side. 

Harry sighed then followed. The botanical garden they entered was full of plant species he had never seen or heard of in his life. There were great flowers the size of plates, whispering willows which swayed as he passed them, and racing lily pads that chased each other in a stream. The lady sat gracefully next to a small pool of water with her hand inside it, swirling her finger around.

"Don't want to rule the world, you say?" Harry asked with a smile.

She took her eyes from the pool and raised them to Harry. "Who said I wished to rule the world? Have you not learned that assumption is a dangerous pastime? Your assumptions will lead you to great sorrow."

Harry's face dropped from amusement and took on a troubled frown. "Who do you want to rule?" he asked.

She grinned now. "The magical race, for that is where true power lies." She twirled her finger in the pond; a vortex formed. One racing lily pad was pulled under.

Harry suddenly felt cold, even though the air was humid and pleasantly warm. "You can't do that," he told her, his voice shaking. "I won't let you rule my race."

Her mouth twitched; she gazed back at her vortex which grew with power. "That is the reason I summoned you," she said.

"_You_ summoned _me_?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Surely you cannot believe you found me out of your own mastery. It was my dagger which led you here; the dreams I planted within your over-kinetic mind. I can only be found when I desire it. Ithaca is untouched by your treacherous world and will always remain so. That is why I am invisible and unattainable. But your concerns have merit. Of all the wizards of your world, you possess superior strength. But as the Black Order demonstrated, my power is supercilious to yours."

Harry was confused; he scratched his head and sat down. "What then?" he asked. "Why did you bring me here? Who are you? What are you trying to do? Answer my questions!" he yelled, the anger he had pushed down for weeks finally reaching the surface.

She continued quite calmly. "I am Leucosia, caretaker of Ithaca and guardian of this parallel realm. I have summoned you to offer a partnership, one that shall not be taken lightly by anyone who crosses our path."

"A partnership?" Harry asked, his eyebrows now fully elevated. "You want to offer me a partnership?"

"Yes. Together you and I could rule them like no other. No one could stop us, no one could conquer us. With our leadership and supreme influence we could better the world," she replied enthusiastically.

"Oh so now you want to 'better' the world, do you?" he asked sardonically.

"That was always my ambition. Human beings require a leader to rule them. They are witless children in need of a forceful parent to command them. Your governments are flawed and riddled with controversy. But it can be cured of this plague. The wizards are wiser than those of non-magical origins, obviously. I cannot have wizards to act the hero, however. Rebels will not be tolerated in my kingdom. You, Harry Potter, would call them to revolt against me. I cannot allow that to befall."

"You're right about that," he said viciously. "I will rebel against you. We may not be perfect but we certainly don't need you to come and clean up after us or boss us around."

Leucosia gave him a malicious grin. "But you do not know them as I do," she whispered. She pushed herself up elegantly and stood before him. "Come with me, Harry, and rule by my side. Together you and I could exercise such magic, such power the world has never seen. They would bow down and worship us for the masters that we are!"

Harry shook his head and took several steps back. "You're insane," he said through clenched teeth. "I will never rule over the world. You can't know me at all if you think I would do that."

She kept up her grin. "Your assumptions, Harry, are dangerous. I know your people better than you could hope. They look at you with tears of admiration; their inferior lips bombard you with high praise; they regard you as a hero of epic standards. And inside of you, buried under all of your apathy, you know they should. You have saved them from a perilous evil which scoured the earth. You have sacrificed a scrupulous life for them. They sleep safely in their warm beds knowing you are protecting them from greater evils. But what, may I humbly ask, have they done for you?" she asked, her mouth still open slightly. She paced toward him, though he continued to recede from her.

"Have they repaid you for your losses? Have they thanked you or given you what you desire? Have they not only come to regard you as a simple celebrity?" she asked.

Harry swallowed but did not reply.

"Do you know how they regard you? You are the 'evil fighter,' the hero who can illuminate the darkness, the one who will always be around to fight. But I fear that is all. They do not see you as an equal man, only a heroic savior."

Through his tightly clenched teeth and fists he replied, "Then they have the right idea."

"Yes," she said with a grin, "they do. But how quickly opinions can change. Consider my offer, Harry, for it will only be raised once more. It will be a simple decision once I am finished with you. I can make your lonely, pitiful existence hell."

Harry forced out an angry laugh. "Really?" he asked her. "You can't scare me. There's nothing you can do to make me join you or even consider joining you. Nothing at all."

"That is what you think," she said with a straight face.

"Is it?" Harry asked snidely. "What are you going to do, kill everyone around me? I can survive that. I've done it before. I'm prepared for it now."

One corner of her mouth rose. "Do I look like a killer to you?" Leucosia asked.

"Malfoy does," Harry answered shortly, indignation rising in his chest.

"Malfoy is a waste of my time. He thinks of himself as pure evil and terribly cunning. He is useful but he cannot even bring himself to save his own son. He seems to think of Draco as competition. I will deal with them in good time; but I will not kill anyone around you; it is much too cliche. Only weak wizards are left with that option."

Harry crossed his arms and let out a bored sigh. "So what will you do?" he asked.

She gave him a satisfied face. "I will make them abandon you of their own free will," she said simply, stroking the lion's mane. "I have that power."

"Fascinating!" Harry said with a fake smile. "And just how will you manage that?"

"You have already seen a demonstration of my power," she said, tapping her temple with her index finger. "I can turn them on you with the snap of my fingers. It really is not difficult; you have seen them do it before. They will abandon you out of fear, out of... their own survival." She smiled greatly as she watched his face.

"You can't do that," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. 

"Oh but I can. It is the human condition, Harry; surely you must be somewhat aware of the simplest of principles. Each human being is concerned only with his or her sole survival when danger ebbs near. Even after all you have done for them, even after the sacrifices you have made, they will abandon you and persecute you the moment they feel remotely threatened. Why, you have already been witness to such an experience. I will make it happen again."

Harry felt sweat on the back of his neck. The rage was rising in his chest each minute he stood before her, listening to her go on and on...

"In the end, Harry, I will win. Whether your people lock you up forever or you join me, my wishes will be met."

Harry shook his head violently. "No," he said, his voice quivering.

"You are fearful," she said with a note of deep satisfaction and a smile to match. She walked to him, grinning evilly. "You know I can. I have the power to invade your mind; you have already seen it done. I have a band of followers who have pierced your heart and easily ripped it from your body. I have instilled doubt about you into many." She got within striking distance of him; Harry could hear her breathing. "In the end I will conquer you!" she growled.

"NO!" he roared, the anger in him boiling over. He saw her laughing face shine before him. He socked her with all the power he had. "I won't give in! You're wrong! You won't win!" he screamed, beating her with all his might. She was pleading with him to stop, her voice lessening as he struck her more and more. He pummeled her stomach, then her face and began kicking her against the wall when something strange happened.

Hands roughly grabbed onto his shoulders, his chest, and the back of his head. He tried to resist them so he could attack and kill Leucosia, but they wouldn't let him go. They didn't understand how evil she was, what she was planning against them...

Harry lunged for her once more, his eyes screwed tight in concentration. "Let go!" he cried, opening his eyes. But Leucosia was not before him; Ithaca did not surround him- Harry paused.

Crumpled on the floor, beaten, bloodied, and unconscious was not Leucosia but- "_Hermione_."

Harry felt as though someone had taken all the air out of his lungs, as if his entire body was deflating. He tried to reach out for her, but the hands restraining him became rougher and they threw him away from Hermione and onto the ground.

One of the hands hit Harry dead in the face. Harry pushed himself up but he was hit again.

"You sick son of a bitch!" he heard Ron scream at him. Ron struck Harry's stomach. "How dare you hurt her!" he cried, tears of anger and pain in his eyes. "How dare you!"

Then Harry heard a woman scream. He looked around but then he felt himself being lifted off the ground by two sets of hands; Fred and George. Ron came after Harry again and kicked him in the rib cage; Fred and George did nothing to stop their angered brother- Harry let out a grunt of pain.

Then he saw Ginny hovering over Hermione, whose entire face was swollen.

"Hermione!" Harry called for her. He struggled against Fred and George to get to her, but Ron whipped out his wand. There was a loud bang, then Harry found himself bound by tight ropes. Fred and George let him fall face first to the grassy ground.

"Who knows the anti-Disapparation jinx?" Ron asked as he yanked Harry from the ground and dragged him into the house.

"Ron," Harry said frantically, straining against his ropes. "Ron, I didn't mean to hurt her, I saw the leader of the Black Order, Ron! I know who she is and what she's up to!"

But no one listened to him. Percy Weasley came running from downstairs to see what all the commotion was about. Ron quickly explained. Percy tapped Harry hard on the head and mumbled something, and then he ran outside with the others. Ron kneeled down next to Harry and raised his fist, readying himself to punch Harry again.

"I saw Ithaca, Ron, I saw it! I saw this woman, Leucosia, and I know what she's trying to do!" he explained wildly but it didn't stop Ron's fist. Harry released another grunt of pain.

"You son of a bitch!" Ron cried, moving his hands to Harry's throat. Harry felt his best friend squeeze and tighten his grip, strangling him.

"Ron, STOP!" Ginny yelled, pushing her brother away. Harry coughed and breathed again, but not for long. In seconds a dozen men, Hit Wizards, Apparated all around him and seized him. Harry tried fighting them but before he could do anything, one of the wizards removed his glasses while another blindfolded him.

"NO!" he roared, trying to pull away.

"_Silencio!_" someone said, and Harry was voiceless. He heard the Weasleys applauding as the Hit Wizards drug him away; he heard more popping as Healers, most likely, appeared to tend to Hermione; then he heard a door open, felt himself being vaulted inside, the doors slam, and he was being driven away.

******

Present

******

Harry stared at his knees. "Then I was questioned by Law Enforcement, who filed a report _you_ have read. And then they locked me in here. So," Harry said silently as he moved his gaze up to Marc, "here I am."

And while staring into Marc's horrified face, a sinister and seductive voice whispered in Harry's ear, "_Yes, just where I said you would be..._"

  
  
_For those of you who are going to email me with the question, "is it over now because Harry's caught up with the present?" I am telling you now, no. There is much more to come and I hope you stay with me. If you would like to read about Harry's three years in Auror Training, check out my cookies under "Auror Progression" which can be found here and on my yahoo group._


	7. Black Accusations

Chapter Seven: Black Accusations  


Harry's eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and his breathing became short and labored as he channeled all of his energy into listening for her.

"Is there something wrong?" Marc asked hesitantly. Harry held his breath and scanned the room for her.

"Uh," he replied, his eyes digesting the white nothingness, "no. No, just had a brain freeze is all." He swallowed hard then turned back to Simon. "It happens to everyone."

Marc narrowed his eyes at Harry, but didn't push the matter. "The night when I first met you," he said, his quill between his fingers, "you heard Leucosia taunting you, is that correct?"

Looking away from him, Harry nodded. He started to sway one of his legs again as Marc began the rhythmic scratching on his notepad.

"When do I get out of here, now that I've finished telling you the story?" he asked, watching the sheets move with his foot.

"I have to file the report first, Harry, you know that." He continued to scratch his quill across the pad then cleared his throat. "How exactly did you get back from Ithaca and wind up where you started; in the Weasley's backyard?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his pad.

Harry let out a low hissing breath, screwed his shut eyes tight, and clenched his fists around the blankets on his bed. "I'm not sure," he said in a strangely even way.

Marc began scribbling again. Harry had listened to that incessant and irritating scratching for days now. Each time Marc would write a looping letter, the quill would make a spine tingling screeching sound that was enough to annoy the most stable person in the world. Harry bit his bottom lip and glared over at Marc, who kept writing for several minutes without speaking.

Harry opened his mouth to make a remark, but someone beat him to it. He heard someone intake a breath in his left ear.

"He does not believe your words," Leucosia whispered to him. Harry's breathing became quick again. "I can see what he records," she continued. "You will be here forever..." she sneered.

"No," Harry answered aloud. The scratching quill halted.

"Pardon?" Marc asked. "No what?"

But Harry didn't respond to him; he was focusing on Leucosia who continued to whisper at him.

"Yes," she said, as if smiling to herself. "You poor darling."

Harry's chest rose and fell very rapidly now, as he inched backwards to the wall.

"Harry," Marc said, now standing up and reaching out toward him. "What's the matter?"

Harry whipped his head around. "Can't you hear her?" he whined.

Marc shook his head. "No, I can't."

Harry's hands started to shake and he felt himself growing goose bumps again. He heard her laughing- something brushed the side of his face. Harry recoiled and felt the air. Then there was a peculiar sensation traveling up the inside of his leg- Harry leapt off the bed with fists raised, scanning the room again.

Marc stood up but didn't summon for help or try to get Harry's attention; he wanted to study. Even he could hear Harry's heart beating frantically against his rib cage.

"Leave me alone," Harry said. "I said leave me alone!" he yelled, his fear changing into anger. "You can't control me. You can't make me do what you want!"

Marc took a step to the side just as Harry began moving around the room, swinging his arms as if trying to strike someone invisible. 

"I won't!" he said again. "I will never -" his expression changed again, back to fear. "No - you can't do that. I won't let you, bitch. No," he repeated, looking around for her. "They won't. They won't!" 

But Marc had to interfere soon; Harry's eyes were bloodshot now, sweat was oozing from the pores on his face, and he was near hyperventilation. He slowly walked toward Harry.

"Don't you touch them!" Harry growled, clenching his teeth. "NO THEY WON'T!" he yelled. "They'll believe me. They won't!" he yelled angrily at the wall.

Marc reached out and touched Harry's shoulder. He could feel Harry tense up even more.

"Harry," Marc said soothingly.

Harry slowly turned around to face Marc. When he made full circle, Marc saw Harry's eyes were strangely aglow, his eyebrows were pulled down in anger, but he was smirking.

"There you are," Harry growled evenly. "Glad you decided to face me."

Marc shook his head and walked steadily backwards, but Harry advanced.

"No, Harry," Marc said, raising his hands. "I'm not Leucosia."

But Harry didn't care. He steadily increased his speed and Marc soon found himself back against the far wall, Harry between him and the exit.

"I won't let you lay one finger on them," Harry declared.

He was so close now that Marc could see what looked like tiny bolts of lightening cracking in the irises of Harry's eyes.

"I won't touch them," Marc said, trying desperately to sound calm. "I promise."

Harry replaced his smirk with a nasty frown. "You lie."

Again, Marc shook his head. He felt that if he made any quick or sudden movements, Harry would do something rash. 'Course, it looked as if he would do something rash anyway. Marc decided it was time to stop pretending that he wasn't frightened beyond belief. He took a step to the side and began for the door.

But Harry simply extended his hand, grabbed Marc around the throat with an incredibly tight grip, and threw him back against the wall.

"I'm not letting you escape," Harry said to him with a smile.

Marc took a great breath and yelled, "HELP!" 

With three fast punches to Marc's face and one painful kick in the gut, Marc was unconscious on the floor.

__

Whoosh

Harry whirled around. Seven nurses, six male and one female, dashed into the cell. Harry threw his arms up then the rest of his body followed so he could kick one nurse on his way up, and another as he came down. As his first two victims fell to the ground, Harry dropped his body, swung out his leg, and clipped another around the back of their ankles, causing him to fall backwards.

But Harry ceased momentarily in his battle when his eyes glimpsed the outside hallway; they had left the door open. He started for it, ignoring the four remaining nurses.

He could nearly taste the air outside his cell when he felt a familiar painful prick on the back of his neck. He spun around to see the female nurse holding an empty syringe. He felt the spot with his hand; it was slightly swollen and he soon realized that his vision was beginning to blur. But he had to escape. He shook it off and continued forward. 

"I don't think so," someone said as they stuck Harry for the second time, this shot in the shoulder. Harry paused, suddenly feeling very weak, but it didn't stop him from swinging at the man. Unfortunately, because he now had two doses surging through his system, he missed. The nurse grabbed his arm and swung Harry to the floor, pinning both arms behind his back and shoving Harry's face on the cold, tile floor.

"You're never getting out of here," he said to Harry as his eye lids began to drop. "Never, you crazy bastard."

Harry saw other feet shuffle up toward him. He tried struggling against them, but it was no use. The potion was taking over much too quickly.

"I wanna go home," he whined, barely audible. His breathing became relaxed and his eyes shut.  
  
  


A glass of cold water was given to Marc. He grabbed it and gulped it down, all of it, then set the glass down with a loud clank. He passed his hand through his thin, graying hair and sighed. For a split second he thought Harry was going to kill him. He hadn't really given much credence to the old adage "Life flashing before the eyes," but now he did. Marc sat on the hospital bed, legs hanging over the side, and pondered the flashes he saw.

If he had died, if Harry had killed him in such a brutal and violent way, would anyone mourn his passing? His wife barely cared about him and his friends would miss him for a few weeks, but would anyone be devastated to see him go?

He pushed himself off the bed but didn't leave.

There was a knocking on the wall. Marc pivoted around. A tall, lanky man in a professional set of robes smiled at him, but not in what one would refer to in a kindly greeting. This man wanted something.

"Doctor Marc Simon?" he said, barging in and extending his hand.

"Yes. And you?"

"Columbus Blair, Internal Affairs for the Ministry of Magic," he said.

"Oh," Marc said. "I've heard of you, actually. What is it that I can do for you?" Marc asked as he picked up his coat and started out of the room.

"I heard your patient _thrashed_ you pretty good," he said with a grin. "I assume he's the one who told you about me. He probably didn't cast a favorable light on me?"

Marc continued his journey back to where Harry was. "I'm not allowed to give away details about my sessions with him, you should know that." He gave Blair a look of warning. "Now, I need to get back down to him, so please tell me what I can do for you."

Blair smiled in the same unkind way. "I was under the impression that you had finished with him."

"Oh really?" Marc said with one eyebrow raised. "And whom, may I ask, gave you that impression?"

They approached a security door. Blair flashed a badge to the security wizard and they were allowed in. Marc was still awaiting Blair's answer as they came to another security door.

"Perhaps I should tell you something," Blair said. He flashed his badge again.

"Tell me what?" Marc asked, growing tired of his guest. They came to the Observation room door which they both entered.

"I had the recordings of your sessions taken. Some of our own are looking into it now. I'm afraid, Doctor Simon, that you're out of the loop now. There is no need, therefore, to write a report. Your job here is nearly finished." He looked out into the cell, then back to Simon, who appeared scandalized.

"_What?_" he said breathlessly.

"You had the sessions recorded for future reference, didn't you? Well, the Ministry has confiscated them."

"Why?" Marc asked, keeping his tone even though it was becoming more difficult as the day progressed. "It's illegal to take his records and it violates his rights as a patient! He has told me private issues which he hasn't shared with any other. You simply cannot take those records!" Marc said, his voice rising. The wardens, all five of them, who were now posted and completely alert in the Observation room, began to listen.

"Well, you'll find there is a small loophole in that theory."

"Loophole?" Marc said angrily, now crossing his arms.

"Yes. You see the issue of a criminal charge has been raised against him," he whispered loudly, smirking in a sickly satisfied way.

Marc's eyebrows shot up his face. "Criminal charge? Like what, for example?"

Blair made a shameful clicking noise with his tongue. "Leading and forming this Black Order, for example. Don't tell me you didn't suspect him. The evidence is mounting against him."

Marc could have sworn he felt his stomach collapse. "Leading and forming that group of monsters who nearly killed him?" Marc asked.

But Blair grinned more widely and pitted himself against the wall. "Nearly. But didn't. And he is the only one who can say for sure that it was the Black Order. Don't you find that odd?"

"The hostages were under a spell," Marc replied quickly.

"A convenient lie," Blair said. "That is just one thing the hearing will cover. Among other incidents will be his persistent absences since the taking of his post a few years ago. He told Minister Wilson that he was working in the field, but he hardly showed anything to cover that story." He drew a brass pocket watch from his robes and checked it. 

"Harry wouldn't form any such group. He has problems; I'll grant you that, but what you're accusing him of is not only ludicrous, but an insult to his integrity."

Blair kept smiling and nodded his head. "I've had the order given to his Healer," he started, verging clear of the accusations, "that he is to remain sedated until the day of the hearing which is two days from now. Until that time, I don't want you in that cell with him. Besides, he won't be able to speak rationally anyway, not with what he's on."

Marc shook his head and scrunched his eyebrows. "If you're going to charge him he needs to know about it," he said.

"You will tell him in two days when we have to move him for the hearing. We're making preparations for it as we speak. Moving him securely to the Ministry is going to be a huge feat and will take many expert wizards on the case." He extracted a mint from his chest pocket and popped it into his mouth. 

"Who brought the charge?" Marc asked, removing his glasses so he could pinch his nose.

"I did. I consulted with our new Minister, who was hesitant about it, but then I showed him the evidence. To make a very long story short, he decided to have a preliminary hearing to establish whether or not a trial is necessary. The press hasn't heard about it... yet. I expect it will leak out after the hearing. In any event it will happen."

"What evidence?" Marc asked, replacing his glasses. "It sounds to me like you have mere coincidences, not evidence."

Blair grinned again and began his way out of the Observation room. Marc followed. "We're searching for that," he said quietly. He started up for the surface of the hospital with Marc working hard to keep up.

"Searching where?" he asked.

"His apartment. The Minister granted us permission to search it. Could I persuade you to come along? I would be interested in seeing where our Mr. Potter spends his time when he's not away or at the Ministry. It's the stage of some of his glorious stories, isn't it?" He paused to look at him. "You could give me your interpretation."

While Marc was most curious about what could possibly be in that apartment, he couldn't help but feel a moral obligation in not going. It was only for Harry to see, not anyone else. Still, there was a nagging in the back of his head which told him to just go and see a little bit of it. It may explain something, or open another door to Harry's mind. His mind. Was it as secure as he once thought weeks ago, or was Harry slipping? Either way, he had injured Marc and probably would have continued to attack him if he hadn't been stopped.

"I'm not sure you have the legal right-" 

"But _I_ do," he said whipping out a bit of parchment. "Minister Weasley has given me permission to search it for evidence that Harry is in fact leading the Black Order. If there isn't, then I leave. Come on, Doctor, I know you're just as curious as I am."

"Curiosity has nothing to do with it," he replied. 

"Fine," Blair said, grinning again. "But I am going and you are welcome to come. Who knows," he said with a slight insidious chuckle, "you might find an explanation to why he attacked you so brutally." He let his last sentence hang in the air for effect then walked backwards before swinging himself around and walking away.

Marc followed. 

They Apparated to Harry's apartment. Several witches and wizards were snapping pictures and snooping around through his possessions. Harry hadn't gone into much description of his residence, so Marc was a bit taken aback at its size. The main door opened into the large living room where a small black leather couch and ottoman were situated facing the immense windows along the entire wall. The dining room was just off of it, where a long oval table sat with several chairs. They appeared quite unused. The kitchen, to the left, had a small bar-like-counter with stools. Behind it must be the pantry.

"Nice digs, isn't it?" Blair asked as he walked inside. "You should see his book collection." He walked to it. Marc strode behind him, eyeing the balcony which lined the outside walls. It was a beautiful day outside. When they reached the hallway, there was a small door which opened into a medium sized room with several shelves filled with old and new books. Marc hesitated as he crossed the threshold but eventually stepped inside. There was a very odd musty smell in here, almost like mold.

"Most of these books are banned from public libraries because of their content," Blair said, pulling a very worn and ancient volume from one of the shelves. "The spells and potions in some of these books are the darkest of magic. The essence-reversal spell and the Mimicry hex are outlawed by our government. Yet their descriptions and instructions are all within these walls."

"He needs to know what he's fighting against," Marc replied quickly. "You're basically accusing him of what you're doing. Finding out about what he's doing by searching and invading his privacy. It's a reliable tactic, Mr. Blair."

Blair replaced the book in its slot then turned to face a large, shiny black cabinet which stood approximately five feet tall from the floor. It was locked. "Can't get it open," Blair said. "They tried every spell they could, but it's protected by a password that only he knows. We tried everything we could."

"Names and birth dates didn't work?" Marc asked as he scanned the titles of the books around him.

"No, they didn't. We tried every name of every person he's met, or that we know of. It might not even be a name or a date. But according to his testimony," he said, taking on his sick grin again, "he keeps weapons in here. Interesting for a wizard to collect weapons."

Marc raised his eyebrows then turned away to keep in a smirk. "Weapon is such a general term," he muttered. "How do you know they're dangerous?"

Blair didn't answer. Marc pulled his eyes away from the books and walked out of the library to hang a left. There were windows all along the right side of the hallway, allowing the bright sunlight to stream into the apartment. A bathroom of luxury was to his left, then he approached a well kept guest room, and directly ahead were two open double doors leading to Harry's room. It was huge. There really wasn't another word for it.

On the left side was Harry's personal fitness center complete with floor mats, a boxing bag hanging from a magically reinforced chain, weights, and a gymnastic horse. Marc's eyes moved to the king bed covered in dark fittings. In the far corner was an elaborate desk which, at the current time, was void of items one should see on a desk. Marc assumed everything had been collected and taken. 

Under the desk was a small wooden trunk. Marc sauntered over to it, bent down, and clicked it open. Inside was a small photo album and what appeared to be a shattered glass mirror. His face was reflected several times in its pieces. 

"Is it true?" he heard an unfamiliar voice say from behind him. Marc whirled around. A tall man with vivid red hair, long nose, and freckles stood before him with an anxious and concerned expression.

"Is what true?" Marc asked.

"Is he...?" He looked to the ground and shut his eyes. Marc sighed.

"Ron, isn't it?" he asked.

Ron nodded but didn't ask how Marc knew his name. As he got a better look, Marc noticed that Ron's hands were shaking and his eyes were red in the corners.

"Harry's sick," Marc answered him straightly. "I'm trying to help him, but I don't think he's well. I'm not sure when it happened or how or why, for that matter. Well," he mumbled shaking his head, "why isn't so hard to figure out."

But Ron didn't seem to feel any better. If he wasn't mistaken, he thought Ron might break down and weep. He began to shake all over now, his lips included. 

"What's wrong with him?" he gasped.

Marc shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm still working on that. But to put it simply, he sees and hears things that aren't there. But it's really more than that, Ron. Harry, it seems, is traveling down a dangerous road that, if not interrupted, could lead to his eventual self destruction." He raised his head.

Ron shook his head as if in total disbelief. "H-How can that be?"

"He feels very trapped, isolated, and unhappy. Emotions which he has felt, unfortunately, long before you met him. I imagine that those emotions feel normal to Harry so he continually seeks them just to _feel_ normal. But being trapped and lonely isn't healthy for anyone, and we are now seeing the aftereffects."

Ron's mouth fell open and Marc was sure he saw a tear or two in Ron's eyes.

"But he can't be..." he said.

"I'm very sorry," Marc said. "I know he's important to you. It isn't as if he can't be helped, though. You understand that, don't you? It will probably take years for him to recoup and partially recover."

Ron cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Partially recover?" he asked.

"Yes. Harry's been damaged and broken since childhood- the founding years. And since then he has encountered and dealt with burdens and situations even adults can't handle. He will never be able to fully come out of that... stupor."

Ron took a step forward. "No," he said firmly. "No, see, I knew him before all this. He was different when we were kids. He was nice, decent, well-mannered, and... nice. He was a great friend. He can be that person again, I know he can. Can't he? Can't he be that person again, Doctor?"

Marc sighed, shut his eyes, and shook his head. "It's not that simple. Harry is the product of his treatment from everyone around him. Because you and Hermione were always there for him, he is kind to the both of you. But Harry sees everyone else differently. At times the Harry you once knew surfaces, but only sometimes. It is my belief that the Harry you met was a weak wall which was being chipped at very slowly and with one great blow it came down. Right?"

Ron shifted his eyes in thought.

"It isn't fair," Marc said before Ron spoke. "It isn't the least bit fair, but that's life."

"What are they going to do with him?" Ron asked, his voice cracking. "He wouldn't hurt- I only hit him because of Hermione- I didn't know he was ill. I didn't know."

"I know," Marc said with a kind smile. "And I'm sure he knows. Harry values you and Hermione very much." Marc walked toward the two double doors. "I have to go."

"Tell him I'm sorry," Ron pleaded. "Tell him I'm so sorry for hurting him."

Marc smiled, patted Ron on the shoulder, and started out. As he swung one of the doors, he was sickened to see Blair leaning against the wall with his grin.

"He's lucid," Blair said. "Lucid, brilliant, and shrewd."

Marc did not sink down to respond.   
  
  
  
  


Harry's eye lids slowly cracked open, allowing only a small sliver of dull light to penetrate his unused eyes. He shut them again; the light was too painful. He then realized that there was a strange numb feeling buzzing in his head. But that couldn't be. Numb can't buzz. Then there was that old taste in his mouth, like he hadn't eaten or swallowed in days. The soreness in his eyes was lessening; he tried opening them again. Though he wanted to open them fully, they only expanded a little. 

He flexed his fingers; for some reason they felt like they were far forward. He tried pulling them back to a more comfortable position, only his hand was stuck. He tried his eyes again, but they were still too weak to move. Harry tried pushing himself up- but he was blocked. Something or someone was holding him down.

He groaned and tried again. This time he definitely felt something around his wrists. With all the strength he had, he opened his eyes. But he needed his glasses to see. If he could only summon the strength to reach out for them with his mind...

What he managed without them, however, were three colored shapes. A pinkish shape, like a hand, a dark brown shape below his hand, then the white of his robes. Harry tried pulling up his wrist again, but the brown whatever-it-was, kept him restrained. 

"Let go," he whispered weakly to it. But it didn't. He tried his other hand to get the same effect. When he tried turning his head around to see it he realized he was face down and couldn't turn his head at all. 

__

Whoosh.

They had opened the door again. Harry fought to free himself, but couldn't. They had chained him down completely; even his head was strapped to the device they had laid him on. It was stiff and uncomfortable, nothing like a bed. 

Someone sat down in a chair next to him.

"Help me," he whispered to them. "Please. I wanna go home," he whined. Tears were forming in his eyes. "Please," he continued. "Please let me go. Please let me go home," he whimpered, his body shaking as he began to sob. "I wanna go home, please. Let me go," he cried, his face reddening as the tears dropped down. "Let me go." He pulled at his restraints futilely.

"Harry," Marc said from beside him, "relax. Harry," he said again as Harry tried, violently now, to remove himself. "Harry, stop it before you hurt yourself," he said, grabbing Harry's hand.

"Let me go!" he sobbed as he strained to push himself up.

"Harry, be quiet and listen to me!" Marc yelled. "You have to listen to me!"

Harry tried once more to free himself, but then quit. His breathing was labored after all his effort. "Let me go," he said again.

"I can't do that now. Don't you remember what you did to me?" Marc asked. 

"No," he said. "I can't see anything," he added.

Marc sighed and stood up to unfasten a leather strap around the top of Harry's head. Four security wizards moved forward to stop him.

"It's all right," Marc said to them, "he still can't move." He unlatched it. Harry turned his head down, so his nose pushed against whatever it was they had put him on. Marc grabbed Harry's glasses. "Look over here," he told Harry, "and I can put them on."

Marc saw tears escape Harry's sealed eyes, and his lips quiver.

"I'm so sorry," Marc whispered to him.

"I want to go home," he said.

"You can't right now," Marc said. "You need to look this way if you want to see."

Harry turned his head toward Marc, who placed the glasses on him. Harry opened his eyes and looked at him.

"You attacked me two days ago, remember?" he asked Harry as he sat back down in his chair.

"No," he said. "No, I attacked Leucosia. She was in here. She said she'd hurt them. I had to stop her so she couldn't."

Marc frowned. "You attacked me. There was no one in here but us."

"I didn't hurt you," Harry insisted. "I know I didn't."

"Harry," Marc said, leaning forward, "you hurt me the same way as Hermione. Your mind is playing tricks on you, making you think you're seeing Leucosia, but you're not."

Harry continued to cry. "She's real," he whined. "She's doing this to me," he said. "She's torturing me."

Marc sighed again. The sight of Harry made him ill, especially those tears. "I'm not sure that she is real, Harry. But we can talk about her later, right now I need to tell you something." He folded his hands and took a breath. "I have to escort you to the Ministry of Magic. Harry," he said sympathetically, looking back at his patient, "they think _you_ are the leader of the Black Order. You have a hearing in an hour."

Harry's mouth opened in aghast; his eyes lost feeling. If he could have shaken his head, he would have.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no." 

"You're going to be escorted down to the Ministry of Magic by these guards and myself." He extracted a syringe from his pocket and stood up. Harry started to panic again, pulling at his restraints. "I have to administer this," he said, pulling back Harry's robe sleeve. "It's just a muscle relaxant, that's all. It's for our safety."

"Don't!" Harry said.

"I have to," he said, pushing the needle under Harry's skin then injecting the clear fluid. Within seconds Harry relaxed but remained alert. Marc nodded to the four guards who came forward and freed Harry of his bindings.

Harry pushed himself up then clasped his head and lay back down.

"Got up too fast?" Marc asked kindly. Harry didn't respond. This time he rose steadily keeping his head cast downwards. Marc brought over a box which contained Harry's regular clothes. He set it next to him. "We'll turn around but please hurry," Marc told him.

"I'm not a criminal," he muttered.

"That's no longer for me to decide. Please get dressed."

Marc and the four security guards turned around as Harry changed quickly. Then Marc faced Harry again, watching him replace his Auror ring on his right ring finger. He rubbed it pensively then reached in the box to withdraw the last tiny object. Marc was floored when he saw Harry extract a thin black nylon rope with a small glass cross hanging from it. Harry fastened it around his neck as if he had done so for years.

"You're religious?" Marc asked.

Harry didn't look in his eyes or answer the question. Instead he dropped his hands on his legs and waited.

"Since when?" Marc persisted. "How long have you believed?"

Harry pushed the glass cross under his shirt and pushed himself up; he swayed slightly.

"I don't ask questions just for the hell of it," Marc said. 

Harry sighed. "The Ministry believes that I am capable of murder, Doctor. Can't I be a tad bit distracted?"

"You don't strike me as the religious type," Marc continued. "I assumed you were agnostic."

"I'm not religious," Harry said. "I don't have a religion. Can I assume we're not Apparating there?" he asked in a dramatic subject change.

"But you believe in God, right?" Marc asked.

Harry chaffed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, okay, yes. Now, how are we getting to the Ministry?"

"A van. Since when have you believed in God?" he asked.

"Geeze, what's the big deal? Haven't you met someone else who has?" he asked angrily.

"Certainly," he replied. "But you- it's just- you're not the- well..." he said, frowning. "It's just very out of character, is the best phrase I can come by. It's strange for you. How did it happen?"

"A big booming voice from the sky," Harry said sarcastically. "When are we leaving for the hearing?"

Marc paced. "In a few minutes, when that potions has had a chance to fully circulate. And I'm asking a serious question. When did you begin to believe in God?"

Harry stared at Marc without blinking. "I made a deal and it came through. No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm not going to tell you what the deal was. It's not your business."

"You bargained with God?" Marc asked, one corner of his mouth raising.

A vein in his temple started to pulsate. "It was much more than a bargain," he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets then walking around the room.

One of the security guards, a burly one, walked toward Harry with something in his hands. Harry reached down to his bedside table to grab the box of cigarettes, but the potion had taken it's effect; he wasn't strong enough to grasp it or lift it up. Harry had to lean on the wall to keep from falling.

"It won't be so bad once we leave this room," Marc said. "The disabling charms, remember?"

Harry nodded and shut his eyes. His head was uncomfortably light and dizzy and his knees were about to give way. The guard came up behind him and easily pulled Harry's hands behind his back.

"What're you doing?" he asked, trying to pull them away. Harry heard a click and realized he couldn't move his arms. 

"We have to make sure you can't escape," Marc said. "Are you ready?"

Harry really wasn't able to answer that question. He was steered by the security guard to the exit wall, the other three wizards flanked him, two in front, one in back; Marc stood next to him. The door opened with its usual whooshing sound. They walked out. The moment Harry crossed the threshold, a small wave of strength washed over him; he smiled. "I will laugh hysterically," he said, "if this potion wears off."

"It won't," Marc replied, withdrawing three more filled syringes from his pocket.

Harry's face fell as he threw Marc a dirty look. "Party pooper."

The van was the same one that Harry had arrived in. On the outside it was a large and grey; very ordinary. On the inside, however, it was much more impressive. There were comfortable lounge chairs for every person, a refrigerator, and at the end nearest the driving compartment as a solitary bench.

"Let me guess," Harry said as they entered, "everyone else's get's the comfortable seats and I get the hard beam." And he was right. He was set down on the bench while the others took their seats. But once his guard had done his job and left, a strange clear wall, like a very soapy bubble, appeared. Harry frowned at it.

"Force field," Marc said, pointing at it.

Harry slid his foot toward the bottom of it, half expecting it to go through, but the bubble was as hard as stone. Then he felt the engine start and the van began to move.

The journey was relatively short. Harry would have liked it if it had been slightly longer. He wanted desperately to Disapparate out of the van and go home, but he knew he couldn't. Soon, the van rolled to a stop and the bubble was lowered. 

The sun was setting when they pulled Harry out of the van and lead him to the visitor's entrance. He couldn't help the inflow of memories of the last time he had come to this entrance with more than one person. He shut his eyes as they all crammed into the phone booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," the cool female voice said the booth opened into the Atrium. No one was there.

"We had to clear the locations you would be walking through," Marc told him.

"Oh," Harry said gloomily. He had kinda wished he could see other people, perhaps some friendly faces. "I suppose you're going to take me to the Department of Mysteries, then?"

Marc nodded without looking at him.

"Yay," Harry said dryly.

They entered a golden elevator. Marc pushed the button for the right floor. The security guards had said nothing the entire time, which made Harry feel slightly uneasy.

"Keep your temper in line," Marc said as the doors clattered open. "You got that?"

The guard holding onto Harry started out, pushing him into the corridor. Harry focused on the black door at the end of it, resisting against his guard as they moved toward it.

"We're turning right," Marc mumbled, pushing open a courtroom door.

This courtroom was different from the one he had been in when he was fifteen. It was smaller and less overbearing. The Wizengamot did not sit so high, for one. They were on a platform, but it was only raised three or four feet. Instead of a chair with chains in the center of the room, there was a rectangular table for three.

"You did know," Marc whispered in Harry's ear as they walked toward the table, "that Arthur Weasley has been appointed as Minister, correct?" he asked. Harry looked up to the center of the Wizengamot to see Arthur Weasley seated uncomfortably; he was fiddling with a ball point pen and paper clip.

"Number three told me," Harry replied as he was pushed into the center chair of the table.

"Number three?" Marc asked as he sat on Harry's right side.

"Yeah, the woman. Psycho-babble number three. The one before you."

"Oh," he said.

Harry scanned the panel. Columbus Blair was seated where Umbridge would have sat; he was looking smug. Harry recognized the man sitting to the right of Arthur; Jacob Verit, a head prosecuting attorney and one of Harry's friends. Harry gave a small sigh of relief when Jacob gave him a small smile.

All was silent for several minutes while Arthur gathered his papers; he avoided Harry's eye.

"Well," he finally said, still looking down at his hands, "we should get started then. Uh, is the accused present?"

"Yes," Harry said loudly. Arthur looked up briefly.

"Then you are," he started in a scripted manner, "Harry James Potter of 117G Connely Building, Seventh street, London?"

Harry wished he could have responded rudely, because everyone always recognized him as Harry Potter.

"Yes," he responded.

"Very good," he said. "The charges against you. Yes. That you, the accused, have formed the secretive and Dark arts group commonly known as the Black Order. That you, after formation of this group, lead the group. That the accused gave orders to the group to kill several, whose families want them unnamed, and the late Minister Harvey Wilson. And finally, that you assaulted Hermione Granger on March 21, 2004 and Doctor Marc Simon on March 29, 2004." He shuffled his papers again. "Does the accused have any witnesses?" he asked.

"No," Harry said. "The accused was informed of this hearing only an hour ago, so he didn't have the time."

Marc sighed and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Keep it under control," he mumbled. He turned to the panel. "Harry was kept sedated for two days under this panel's orders. He wasn't allowed to gather witnesses."

"We understand," Arthur said jovially. Harry wanted to sock him. "To the hearing, then," he said. "Har- Mr. Potter, the reason these charges have been brought against you is because there are many circumstances and incidents that need your explanation. Believe me, I do not want to be here," he said, now looking Harry in the eye. "But evidence kept on mounting and I had to hold this hearing. If, by the end, we see no need to continue the matter, then you are free to go home. But, if this panel wants to know more or is led to believe that you are withholding information relevant to this case, we will hold you to a formal trial."

Harry swallowed hard; it hurt. "Okay," he said.

"Very well." He clicked his ball point pen and scanned whatever it was in front of him. "Please tell the panel of your exact whereabouts for.... September second through fourteenth of the year 2001." He looked up at Harry.

Harry hesitated and held his breath. "I was..." he started, racking his brain. "I had started my job at the Ministry not too long before that," he said.

"That wasn't the question," Columbus Blair started. "He asked where you were."

Harry bit his lip. "I can't remember," Harry said. "It was three years ago."

"Perhaps we should jump to more recent events, then," Blair continued. "Where were you from September to the end of November of the year 2003?" He asked. "It was just last year and you were gone for three months straight."

Harry swallowed again, looking around the room. "I..." he started. He felt himself begin to sweat. 

"Yes?" Blair said.

Harry looked at Marc.

"You have to answer their questions, Harry," he said.

"Mr. Potter, can't you tell us where you were for so long?" Blair asked with a grin.

Harry took in a breath. "I can't." he said. 

Blair grinned more broadly as the panel broke out into murmurs and whispers.

"You can't or you won't?" Blair pushed. "Sudden loss of memory?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I can't tell you. But I wasn't forming the Black Order!" he said.

"No," Blair continued, "they had already been formed by that time, hadn't they?" 

The mumbling turned into chattering.

Arthur raised his hand to signal silence.

"Are you saying," he asked, "that you won't tell the panel where you were while the Ministry of Magic was paying you?"

"I was working, okay? I gathered information about the Black Order and I wrote a report as soon as I got back. I just can't tell you where I was." Harry shuffled in his chair.

"Can we assume," Arthur said, "that you were in the same place on December 24?" he asked.

"Ah," Blair said, "yes, do tell us about that. You told Nymphandora Tonks that you were home that day, isn't that right?"

Harry's face got hot. "Yes I did."

"But your House elf told us that you were not at your place of residence that day. Where were you?"

Harry bent his head and shut his eyes. "I can't tell you," he said again. The panel broke out into discussion again.

"So you were prepping that evening's display at Hogwarts with your Order, eh?" Blair pushed.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I had no idea that would happen."

"Of course you didn't," Blair said sarcastically.

"I didn't. Why would I plan something like that? Why would I organize a group like them? They nearly killed me, for crying out loud!" Harry said.

Arthur raised his hand before Blair could speak again.

"Yes," he said to him, "they did. But they didn't. You were stabbed straight through the heart with a silver blade. It would have killed any man instantly, but it didn't kill you. What's more is you not only survived the stabbing, but the journey to the hospital and the surgical procedure. How? Why did you survive that?"

Harry felt like laughing. "I have no idea," he said. "I suppose the same way I've survived all the other murder attempts against me!" he nearly yelled.

The panel remained silent for a time. Then a woman spoke. "You said that the Black Order entered through the air?"

"That's right," Harry said.

"But it is impossible for anyone to Apparate inside Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," she told him.

"I know they didn't Apparate. They just... came through," he said lamely. "I know it sounds crazy, but that is what I saw."

"But no one else did," a different woman said. "The hostages said they entered through the doors."

Harry sighed. "Lucius Malfoy put a spell on them so he could modify their memories," Harry stated.

"A convenient little lie," Blair spoke. "It was a spell!"

Some of the panel laughed. Harry was feeling deja-vu. "Yes," he said seriously, "it was."

"It's interesting that you are the only one who identified those men. Lucius Malfoy, Kim Philby, and Guy Burgess... they escaped from Azkaban," Arthur said.

"Yes," Harry said, feeling that this avenue might take him into the right direction. "Draco Malfoy invaded the prison, killed off the security guards and freed them. I expect Draco Malfoy entered Azkaban the same way his father and friends entered Hogwarts."

"You know what else is interesting?" Blair said, folding his hands on the table. "The fact that you inspected the prison with Minister Wilson the day before the break-in. What did you do while he wasn't watching you?"

Harry shook his head violently. "I went with him because I had to. I didn't even want to go with him. I did nothing to that prison!"

A different man spoke this time. Harry was getting confused by them all. "Do you know who Guy Burgess is?" he asked.

Harry screwed his eyes shut. "Yes. He used to work for the IWBI over twenty years ago as a historian. They found out that he was a double agent."

"That is correct. But more importantly, Guy Burgess never had a trial and was never formally charged for those crimes," the man said.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's your fault then. What's this got to do with me?"

"Guy Burgess," Blair spoke again, "attended the wedding of your mother and father."

Harry felt suddenly cold. "I didn't know that," he said, shaking his head. "How could I have known that?"

"James Potter was a friend of Burgess. Maybe you felt he was wronged?" a woman asked.

Harry gasped and continued to shake his head. "I didn't know my father or Burgess. How could I have...?" Harry's head dropped. "I didn't do any of this. Why would I?"

But they continued to berate him with questions. "Explain to us why all the attacks you attributed to the Black Order occurred after you awoke in the hospital?" "Why were there no attacks during your brief lapse?" "Why did the attacks suddenly stop once Blair started to follow you?"

Harry could only keep up with his same answer: "I don't know." The faces of the panel became more accusatory as each question was posed and not answered. "I don't know" he would say. "I can't tell you that," he breathed. The questions kept coming. He kept letting them fall away, unanswered. _She had done it, _he thought. _She said she would make them turn on you. They have. She has done it._

"Tell us about... uh, Leeuh-ka-seeah." Arthur frowned at the name then looked down on Harry.

"Loo-CO-sha," Harry said for him.

"Yes," Arthur said. "This siren woman. Tell us about her."

Harry gathered his thoughts then told the panel everything. He told them about entering Ithaca through the tree around the Weasley's home and he told them about the sphinx. He went into as much detail as he could about Leucosia's appearance, her voice, the lion she had. He even replayed the entire conversation he had had with her. But, as he feared, their expressions did not show signs of belief.

"A siren." Arthur shook his head. "She sounds extraordinary."

"Beautiful, seductive, well spoken, and powerful," Blair commented. "And best of all, she resides in a parallel dimension that none of us can see. How convenient for you."

"I'm not making her up," Harry said, though at this point he knew it was no use. "She's real and she's dangerous. The fact that you don't believe me is only part of her plan."

"To rule us all?" Blair said. "Come on, Potter. That's the best your villain can come up with? World domination? It's a bit over done. If you had wanted to be more believable, you should have had your antagonist more... believable."

Harry clenched his fists behind his back. "She doesn't want to take over the world, just our race."

"Oh!" Blair yelled. "Silly me. The Siren wants to control us; she doesn't care for the Muggles. How could I have made such a mistake? And best of all, she wants you to rule beside her. Isn't that sweet?"

Harry shook his head. "This isn't a joke," he said. "She has great power and she will get it if you don't believe me and fight with me! She wants this to happen. She wants you to lock me away so I can't stir a rebellion or fight her. Can't you understand that?" he asked, his voice rising.

Arthur let out a groan. "The Siren enters your mind and taunts you?" he asked.

"Yes but- wait. How did you-?" He turned to his right to see Marc's face redden. "_You_told them?" he whispered to Marc. "I trusted you and you told them?"

"No," Marc responded. "They took the recordings of our sessions. I can't explain right now."

But Harry kept his scowl.

"She made you believe that Hermione Granger was her as well as your appointed psychologist, right?" Arthur persisted. "She toys with your mind?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, despite all you have told us about her, Ministry psychologists, cognitive experts, and your own doctor believe that this woman, Leucosia, is a complex delusion you have created over the past three years. She is a combination of your powerful and lustful feelings which you possess, and she is your make believe leader of this Order," Arthur said.

"No," Harry said. "No!" he yelled. "She's not a delusion. I saw her!"

"Did you touch her?" he asked.

"I was in her palace! I was in Ithaca, dammit! I saw her, felt her presence, heard her voice. This is no delusion, it was real."

"But how did you get there?" Arthur asked skeptically. "How did you get back? Why is it that my family never saw you leave? Why was this dagger lodged in one of the trees? You said you were in the ocean, then why were your clothes dry? Why did you assault your best friend? If this siren wants to rule us, why hasn't she shown herself? Why can only you hear her? Why has she targeted only you?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Where do you go for such long periods of time? Who were the owls addressed to?" he asked. 

Harry squinted up at him. "Owls?" he asked.

"That's correct. You told Hermione, when you were staying with her, that you had to write some owls. Who were they for? No one that we know of that you know received an owl from you during that week. Yet you sent some. Who did they go to?" 

Harry stared at him but did not answer.

"Very well. Is there anything you can answer?" Arthur asked.

Harry's heart hammered. "These events you're recalling," Harry said with a shaky voice, "prove nothing. They're coincidences. Someone is trying to frame me! I wouldn't kill anyone. Arthur, please!" he cried.

"You will address him as Minister Weasley," Blair chimed in.

"You know me," Harry continued to Arthur. "I'm Ron's best friend. I gave Fred and George one thousand galleons to start their business. Ginny was infatuated with me for three years. I killed Voldemort!" he yelled. "Why would I do any of what you're accusing me of?"

"Silence him!" Blair yelled, standing up in his seat.

"I saved this world and you're going to convict me of murder!" Harry yelled. "Have you any idea what I lost?"

"Yes," Arthur said morbidly. "Sit down, Mr. Blair. Doctor Simon, I think it's time you administer the second dose."

Harry pulled away, but the security guard held him in place as Marc gave him a second shot.

"That's the only way I can be controlled," Harry said angrily. "You have to incapacitate me! I will not let this happen!" he yelled. He felt the potion traveling through his body so quickly, he felt as if he might faint. His whole body relaxed; his head lolled onto the shoulder of the guard and his torso slid forward in the chair.

"I'm afraid this hearing is concluded. All those in favor of a trial?" Arthur asked. Nearly everyone raised their hand. Jacob Verit, the lead prosecuting lawyer for the Ministry, did not. That was something. "Very well. Mr. Potter," Arthur stated, "because you cannot account for anything in this case, or bring to light your innocence, I have no choice but to hold a trial which will find you innocent or guilty of these crimes you are accused of. The trial date is set for June fourth of this year. Dismissed." The panel removed themselves and gathered up their things in a flurry of mumbles and other noises.

"No," Harry said to himself. "I didn't hurt anyone," he mumbled. "I wouldn't."

"Back to the hospital," Marc said, standing up to lead the way back to the van.

Harry was almost too weak to walk by himself. His guard did more than steer him to the van, he nearly carried him there. It was dusk by the time they reached St. Mungo's, yet even that small taste of fresh air did something for Harry. But it was a very small taste.

He was back in his white pants and long sleeve shirt within thirty minutes of his return. Harry was placed back on his bed so he could sleep. But he couldn't. There was too much to think about. Marc sat down next to him in a chair.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about?" he asked kindly.

Harry turned his head toward him, wearing an ugly face. "Fuck you," he whispered. "You go ahead and wait. You'll see that I'm telling the damn truth about her. She is not a delusion I created, Doctor. I know I'm not perfect," he growled. "I know what my problems are, but I am not crazy. And don't you dare sit there with your fucking degree and ask me if I want to have a chat. I have been locked up, talked at, and accused of murder. The very last thing I want to do is for you to analyze my behavior so you can go tell the Weasley King." Harry pulled the covers over himself. "Now go. Take that damn fucking security guard and get the hell out of my face," he said coolly.

Marc raised himself out of the chair and sighed. "I never told them anything. They stole from you. I know that's what they did."

"You think I'm nuts," Harry replied. "Get the hell out."

"Harry, you need to understand that I don't think you're 'nuts.'"

But Harry had shut the doctor off entirely. He turned his head away and screwed his eyes shut. Marc blinked several times, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again. He nodded to the guard, who raised his eyebrows suspiciously, but eventually left with the doctor.

__

They were charging him with murder... he found himself thinking. _After everything I did... after all the lives I saved... all that I have given up and couldn't have..._ He buried his face in his pillow. He couldn't help but thinking of what Leucosia had said to him. He tried not to think of her face, of her voice, or of her words. But he couldn't help it. She had been right. 

They had nothing on Harry, no proof of their accusations, only coincidences. She had set him up. She had been playing him for who knows how long and now the game was set. 

"Are you happy now, Leucosia?" he asked, expecting to hear her voice. "Are you watching from your palace?"

But no voice came. There was only a deafening silence which amplified his loneliness and despair. Then a second thought occurred to him, one that he really did not want to consider. What if? What if she wasn't real? _But she has to be, I saw her with my own eyes._ Yes, he saw her. She had to be real. 

__

But you didn't touch her. Arthur asked if you had, but you didn't. You didn't touch her. You never even left the Weasley's backyard.

But I remember leaving. I was in the ocean, _I saw the lion and the sphinx. Leucosia spoke to me and told me all about the human condition. She must be real. Everything about her was so real. I couldn't have imagined or created her, I just couldn't- I don't have that kind of creativity. She's real. Yes, she must be real._

But his thoughts were not soothed. He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. _Where are you now, Leucosia? Don't you want to come and taunt me? Come on, have a go with me. Scare me. Threaten them..._

No voice came. No sinister tone, no seductive signing, or tantalizing touch. It was completely quiet.

__

She wants me to think she's not real. Yes, that must be it. She wants me to think I'm crazy. She wants it.

Harry looked to his left toward the observation room. Chances are at least ten people were in there staring at him. Even if he did go to sleep, they wouldn't move. They would stay there all night making sure that Potter stayed put and under control. They were probably discussing the hearing that went horribly. He wondered if members of the press had somehow managed to sneak inside and ask pesky questions. He was sure some student psychologists were in there with their cute clipboards and ball-point quills writing down shortened notes.

He rolled on his side, his back facing the observation wall. He could feel his subtle strength returning as the muscle inhibiting potion began to wear off. He flexed his biceps and stretched out his fingers, sensing his power slowly come back to him. But as he clenched his left fist, he noticed a very small, round protrusion from under his skin in his knuckle. He frowned and brought it closer to his eyes. It didn't feel like anything; there was no tingling sensation or any pain. So what was it?

Harry passed his right index finger over it, which caused the small whatever-it-was to move to one of his left fingers. Then he felt it- it was solid and it hurt when he pushed against it. It could move so it wasn't part of his hand, and he was sure it wasn't there a few days ago. What was it?

__

Oh, he thought as a grin passed over his face, _getting tricky are we? All right, you want a crazy show..._

He rolled on his stomach and started to breathe steadily and deeply, all while he could literally feel the power surging back into his body. Harry's heart rate quickened as the anticipation of his next actions flashed before his mind.

Harry slowly pushed himself off the bed, swinging his legs off weakly. With eyes half open, he looked to the observation wall and yawned. Then raising himself up, he walked along the wall, holding on for support, and made his way for the lavatory, his feet shuffling on the tile. Harry didn't have much in his lavatory, other than a toilet and a sink. He cranked on the water, splashed his face with it, and then left.

It was time.

He shuffled back towards his bed but stopped himself midway. "No," he said, shaking his head, inhibiting the laughter inside him. "Leave me alone!" he yelled to no one. So far no one was coming into restrain him or sedate him with some kind of potion. "You can't!" he continued, now swinging around like a madman. "I said no, you bitch!" he screamed so loudly his face turned red. "You can't get me! I won't let you touch me!"

Harry clenched his fists, took in a breath, and struck his left hand on the wall. The pain was excruciating, but he held it within him and showed no sign of discomfort. 

"Stay away from me!" he yelled, striking the wall for a second time with the same hand. Now blood spurt from the tops of his fingers, leaving stains on the wall. Still no one came. He punched the wall again, and again, and again so that both hands were wet with his red blood.

"Get out," he yelled, clenching his hair. "Get out!" He ran to the opposite wall, away from the door to his cell, and rammed his forehead against it. He could feel warm blood dripping down his nose. He suddenly felt dizzy but he kept on injuring himself. He pounded at the wall, kicked behind him, and slammed his head against it once more. He fell to the floor and lay motionless.

__

Whoosh.

No less than six people rushed into the room. A healer bent down over him to examine his injuries, touching his blood, feeling his pulse.

"We need to get him out of here," she said in a quiet tone. "Now." With wand in hand, she conjured up a stretcher. Two of the security guards lift him onto the stretcher, strapped him to it, and ran him out of the room.

"Where should we take him?" one of the guards asked. The Healer ran up ahead of them and told them to follow her. She couldn't take him to any level; Harry's injuries were self inflicted and couldn't be healed in any of the magical wards. She rushed them into a room on the same level they were already in, this one with no special charms or spells. 

"Set him down," she said, "and call the psychologist and the other security. I need them to put an anti-Disapparation charm on him and the room." She began unstrapping Harry so she could begin her work. 

One of the guards ran out of the room toward Harry's Observation room, as per instruction. The other held Harry down by the shoulders.

"My goodness," the Healer said, taking Harry's left hand which was damaged beyond simple care. "I wasn't expecting that." She moved her hand to his head.

Harry's eyes opened.

"Don't have time for that," Harry whispered to her.

The Healer pulled away in surprise, her eyes wide. "_What the..?_"

Harry smiled and with one punch to the guard's face, he stood up. And with a very loud_pop_ he was gone.

The guard who was now rubbing his jaw, yelled to the Healer, "Start the trace!" as he ran out of the room. "He Disapparated!" the guard continued, "Potter's gone! Start the trace!"

Marc Simon, who had been called upon, heard the command and ran back to the Observation room. "Harry's gone," he told a short man who sat at an oddly shaped desk. "Start the trace."

With a wave of his wand the desk glowed white with a map of the country outlined in green. A blue dot blinked in London. "He didn't go far," Marc said.

"Wait," the man replied. The map zoomed in. "We have a problem." He stood up, commanded that Harry's cell be reopened, and walked inside. "Holy shit," he said. He strolled over to the wall and kneeled down in front of Harry's splattered blood.

"What is it?" Marc asked, dreading the answer.

The man stood up, and turning around slowly, showed Marc a tiny blue dot. "He beat out the tracer. We've lost him."

Marc couldn't believe it. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Harry Potter beat out his tracer. He was pretending to be crazy so he could tear out the tracer we inserted, and so we would take him out of this room for medical treatment. He's planned it and he got out. He could be anywhere."

Doctor Simon strode out of the room and back into the observation post. "Listen up, people," he said to the remaining witches and wizards. "I need everyone to contact his friends, and I mean all of them. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie Weasley, Fleur Delecur, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Rourke Everett, you name the friend you find them. Send owls for now but I need bodies ASAP before the Ministry comes in and takes drastic actions, you got that?"

No one answered.

"I don't have time for this, people. Who knows where he is and we have to find him. The Ministry of Magic will get violent, if necessary, to find him and I want him back safe, you understand me? Get as many people as needed, but we have to find Harry Potter! Check all his ex-girlfriends, all his professors, everyone!" He yelled. A few people started to rummage around, but most looked lost and clueless.

Marc swore loudly and exited quickly, jogging out of the wing. He needed a portkey. He needed a portkey to get to Hermione before Internal Affairs did. If he was Harry, Hermione would be the first person to talk to.

Luckily there were such portkeys awaiting use in one section of St. Mungo's for Healer and doctor use only. He told the short woman who manned the keys that he needed to get to the residence of Hermione Granger and fast. She looked up Hermione's address, muttered a few words over a teacup and nodded to Marc. He grabbed it. 

He realized, as he was pulled most uncomfortably from behind his naval, why he drove a car. This was horrible. But it was over in a few seconds, luckily. He found himself outside a door to a very small house. He knocked urgently on it and sighed.

It was opened by Hermione. "Doctor Simon," she said pleasantly, opening the door for him. "What's wrong?" she asked, now noticing his troubled face.

"Is Harry here?" he asked, walking in and scanning the small room.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Is Harry here?" he repeated.

Hermione shook her head. "No. He's in St. Mungo's."

Marc began to pace nervously. "He escaped. Just now. Harry's gone and we don't know where he is. It's important that we find him before someone else does."

Hermione's mouth fell open, but not in anger or surprise. She almost looked triumphant. "Harry freed himself?"

"It is bad news."

"No," she said, smiling now. "No it isn't. There's no reason Harry should be locked away. Don't you believe him?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No," he said, his voice rising, "I don't. But I don't have the time to go into a debate about Harry's psyche. Listen to me, Hermione. Chances are Hit Wizards, Law Enforcement, even powerful Aurors are out looking for Harry right now. They will do whatever they think necessary to apprehend him and bring him back. We need to find Harry first before anyone gets hurt!" he yelled urgently.

She bit her bottom lip and breathed steadily. "Okay," she said after a few moments of silence. "Okay, but Harry can take care of himself."

"It isn't Harry's safety that I'm worried about," he mumbled back. He assumed she knew what he had meant, as she didn't ask about his statement.

"Harry isn't a monster," she whispered. "He's the good guy, the hero. He won't hurt anyone unless he has to defend himself. And I'm not sure that I really can help you. Harry disappears to who knows where and I don't know where that is. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be. Besides," she said, "I don't want him to be placed back in that cage you had him in."

Marc rubbed his cheeks thoughtfully. "His escape makes him look guilty. If he's not here then maybe he's with someone you haven't met. Do you know if he's been keeping in touch with an old girlfriend?"

She shook her head. "He might be. But I only met a few of them. He had over a dozen when he was at training, and I only saw three. I don't even know the other's names." She dropped her head to her chest and heaved a giant breath. "I'll get Ron," she said, meandering to the fireplace.

"Hurry," Marc said, "Harry could be anywhere."  
  
  


Blood covered his hands, spattered on his white clothes, and dripped into his eyes. He had to be certain no one could see him, but without his wand he couldn't perform such magic. If only he had the concentration to change his appearance at will, but his head was throbbing, his sight was failing him, and it was too dark to even worry about it. No one could see him.

He roughly fell out of a tree, stumbled onto the ground, then hoisted himself up and ran. He prayed that no one was looking out a window and seeing him. He passed house, after house, after house, tripping along the way.

"Almost there," he panted as he ran, looking behind him to make certain he wasn't being followed. "Almost there."

A house with a glowing porch light was waiting for him at the end of the street. Harry beamed at it and sprinted to get there. It had been too long since he'd seen it. He clambered to the screen door, opened it, but found the wooden door was locked. He knocked wildly and unevenly. "It's me," he whispered desperately, looking into the peephole. "Please be home," he moaned.

There was a clicking sound on the other side and the door opened. Harry grinned so widely it touched his heart.

"Harry!" a tall, thin, woman said with her dark eyes open in surprise. "My God, what happened to you?" she gasped. She pulled him inside by the hand and shut and locked the door behind her.

He kept smiling so brightly he felt he might cry; he was elated to see her at last. She pulled him by the hand into a bedroom, then to the bathroom inside it.

"What happened?" she asked tenderly. "What did they do to you?" She sat him down on the closed toilet seat and rummaged for bandages.

"I had to get out," he said, still grinning at her. "They think it's me. They think I started the Black Order, and I didn't. They think I'm crazy, that I made her up."

The woman walked to the wall and switched on the light. Harry could see her face much clearer now. He had always known she was the most naturally beautiful woman in the world. She had a thin face with full lips; her nose was perfectly straight and small, and her eyes, which were sparkling with tears, were a dark brown. She wiped a bit of her short, brown hair off her forehead, and then went to the cabinet for supplies.

"Made who up?" she asked softly, pulling disinfectant potion from a shelf.

"The leader of the Black Order," he told her. "Leucosia, this evil woman. She did it to me, Audrey, she did to me. She made them think I'm crazy. She wants them to think I'm crazy so I can't fight her. She's real, I know she is. Please believe me," he whimpered.

Audrey stood by him and started to clean the cuts on his head.

"She's real. I saw her," Harry repeated.

"Shhhh," she said soothingly, "relax. I need you to take deep breaths and relax. Okay?"

Harry shut his eyes and nodded. He could feel her gentle touch on his head as she tried to repair the damage he had caused. It felt as if she was working quickly.

"I missed you," he mumbled.

She let out the tiniest of laughs as she wrapped a bandage around the circumference of his head. "I should hope so," she replied, fastening the bandage down. "I missed you, too. When you're well I intend on reminding you how much I hate this secretive arrangement we have," she said kindly. She picked up his left hand and bit her lip. "Who did this to you, Harry?" she whispered, bending down before him.

"It was the only way I could escape," he told her. "I had to see you. It's been months since I've seen you."

She wiped his hands clean then wrapped them up with the same brand of bandage she used for his head. "I did the best I knew how. I should be healed by tomorrow morning, hopefully," she smiled to him. "You look tired."

Harry nodded but didn't lose sight of her. "I am."

She took both of his hands and rose him up. Standing, Audrey was only an inch and a half shorter than Harry was. She could easily look directly into his eyes. "Come on," she said to him, leading him out of the bathroom. "Let me get you out of those," she continued softly, sitting him on the edge of the bed. She took the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, taking care to ensure she didn't hurt him.

"Don't put them in the trash," he told her. "They might find me here if you do."

Audrey dropped the shirt on the floor. "I wasn't going to," she said. She walked to one side of the bed and pulled the covers out. "Get inside," she told him in a whisper. Harry got up and walked to her, then crawled inside the warm bed.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Yeah," she said with a grin. "I just need one more thing to make us complete." But Harry didn't let go of her hand. She sat down on the bed with him and rested her hand on his neck. "Looks like I have to work to fatten you up," she said, noticing his thin chest. "You went away much healthier."

"I didn't want to go at all," he said, clenching her hand in his.

"Let's not talk about it tonight," she said. "We have tomorrow for all this. I'm just so happy that you're back." She beamed at him. Harry bent his head closer to hers but she pulled back, still grinning at him. "No," she told him with a light chuckle, touching his lips with her fingers. "You know the rules."

While watching his eyes, Audrey reached one hand to her bedside table for a small, white porcelain box. She gripped it and brought it back to her lap. Harry now returned the grin. Audrey opened the box and extracted one solid gold ring, a wedding band, and, very gently, she placed it on Harry's left ring finger.

"There," she said with a sigh. "Welcome home, my love." She rested her free hand on Harry's chest then leaned in for his kiss.

  


Author's note: Old note has been removed on Dec. 17 now that next chapter is updated.


	8. The Other Side of Janus

Chapter Eight: The Other Side of Janus

Warm sunlight penetrated the drawn curtains, crept across the clean carpet, and climbed up the bed coming to rest on Harry's sleeping face. His eyes were closed and not ready to open, but the simple feeling of sun on his face was enough to draw up the corners of his mouth. He knew where he was now. He was in that place between wakefulness and sleep, the place where dreams ignited. But this wasn't a dream.

The soft and heavy blankets which lay on top of him almost blocked out the other newly awakened sense. The distinct aroma of home cooking was wafting into his nostrils. Eggs, sausage, and buttered toast. Now he smiled fully.

Harry decided to chance it and open his eyes. He was right; it wasn't a dream. The pinkish curtains proved mediocre in their job of blocking out the sun, allowing a small sliver of bright light to hit his face. Harry yawned and stretched, automatically feeling the left side of the bed, which was empty. Of course it was empty, that explained the cooking. Harry rolled over on his back then sat up, taking in a breath of the fresh smell of hot food and laundry detergent.

He swung out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Meeting him this fine morning was his own reflection, which looked much happier now than the last time he'd seen that face. Audrey had been right about his weight, though. He was much thinner and more sallow looking than when he left in December. He also had, which he didn't notice while in St. Mungo's, obnoxious stubble on his face. He frowned at it then went to turn on the water for a shower.

On the shelves were pink shampoo bottles, colorful soaps which smelled too much like perfume, and other assorted items Harry knew did not belong to him. The non-feminine shampoo and conditioner was difficult to find but not impossible. Still, he couldn't help but smile ruefully and shake his head.

After the normal grooming he should have been doing for the past week, Harry dressed then left the bedroom and found himself in the kitchen where Audrey was cooking. She had her back to him as she stirred the eggs in the frying pan. There was music playing from a wireless radio on top of the refrigerator, which provided inspiration for her subtle dancing. She was swaying her hips back and forth. Harry grinned.

It appeared as if she had just recently returned from her regular jog, for she was still dressed in her short blue running shorts and tank top. It was Harry's favorite outfit out of all her clothes.

She turned around to reach for something, and then jumped back when she saw Harry. She clasped her hand to her chest and took in a breath.

"You know I hate it when you do that," she said with a crooked smile. "You scared me to death."

Harry returned the grin then leaned on the wall with his arms crossed. "Sorry," he said. "You pulled out all the stops," he said, nodding casually to all the food.

She tossed some hair out of her face and nodded. "Yeah. Apparently my husband came back and now I have to celebrate his return. I only wish I wouldn't have to celebrate something that simple," she added softly.

Harry lowered his eyes and pushed himself off the wall.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, continuing with her cooking.

"Good," he said. "Good, considering everything," he mumbled. 

"You want to talk about it now?" she asked. She pulled down three plates from her cabinet and started setting toast on them. "I'll admit that I'm dying to hear about it all. That is if you want to discuss it right now. I understand if you want to give it time." She looked at him again and passed him another smile.

Harry sighed and sat down at the dining room table. "Do you want the long version or the short one?" he asked.

Audrey started to pile on the sausages now. "Let's go with short right now and long later when we have more time," she said. 

Harry nodded and pursed his lips. "The great institution that is the Ministry of Magic believes that I am the one who formed and leads the Black Order, the group of men killing innocent people for no apparent reason. Not only that, but they have formerly charged me for this crime and I am to attend trial on June fourth. From what I can tell, nearly no one thinks I'm innocent. Oh, and I actually met the leader of the Black Order, but no one but me thinks she's real. They think I'm insane," he said flatly, constantly watching Audrey's face go from concerned to frightened. "No one believes me."

Audrey sat down and faced him. "I'm going to need the long version of this, aren't I?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "I suppose. I told the whole story to a shrink for the past few days. Honestly, repeating it won't be an enjoyable experience, even to you."

Audrey bit her to hold back a smile. "I'm sorry," she said, flipping more hair out of her eyes, "you did say 'shrink,' right?"

Harry nodded slightly.

"_You _talked to a shrink? My Harry and a shrink?" she asked, now beaming and fighting the giggles.

"I'm glad my suffering entertains you," Harry said, but he was grinning with her. "I chased away the first three; they were afraid of me, but the fourth one wasn't going to budge. He was all right, I guess."

"And did he ask you how you felt about stuff? Did he use that question, even?" she asked.

"Once or twice," Harry admitted.

"You didn't tell him things you haven't even told me, have you?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I've told you everything," he said.

"No you haven't," she said, then glanced over Harry's shoulder. "We can't talk anymore. No more time."

"Why not?" he asked. 

"I think…" she whispered, now clearly looking behind Harry, "that someone else will desire your attention."

Harry watched Audrey's face as he turned his body around in the chair, then allowed his head to follow.

Shuffling into the living room with a soft pink blanket in her small hands was a tiny girl, just a toddler. Her dark hair, like her mother's, was curly at the ends, her small perky nose was snuggled against her blanket, and her pink lips were forming a yawn. She continued into the kitchen, her eyes half open.

Harry stood up and took in a breath. "Hi," he said to her, unsure of her reaction.

The girl snapped her head up then broke her face into a wide grin which crinkled her dark eyes into slits.

"Daddy!" she yelled in a high pitched baby voice. She ran the rest of the way to him, threw her arms wide, and rose into the air as he hoisted her up. She squeezed his neck tight, kicking her legs in excitement. 

"Missed you, daddy," she said then kissed his cheek.

"I missed you back, Dana," he replied, with a kiss. As she pulled her face back to look up at him, Harry frowned. "You're so big," he said solemnly. She had grown at least a few inches since the last time he'd seen her. And he couldn't help but feel angry at himself for missing it.

But the news of growth didn't upset Dana. She slipped out of Harry's arms, took his hand, and led him into the living room to a set of hatch marks on the wall.

"I did gwow!" she said, flattening her back against the wall. "See, daddy, see!" she said, pointing to the top of her head.

"You sure did," he said. Audrey came up beside him and clutched his hand. 

"Tell him how many inches, sweetie," Audrey said.

Dana held up her two fingers and giggled.

"Wow," Harry said, as he tried to keep his smile up. "That's a lot."

"And she still has more to grow," Audrey added, as if reading Harry's thoughts. "You'll always be around to see it," she whispered to him, staring straight into his eyes. She framed his face in her hands then gave him a quick kiss.

Marc's eyes passed over the same exact sentence for the fourth time that morning. He had to keep reading it because while the words met his eyes, for some reason his brain didn't comprehend the message. The aroma of coffee drifted into his nostrils and stirred up images in his mind--- Harry, to be more exact. He couldn't help but feel as if the answer to his patient's whereabouts was right under his nose…

The door to his office opened; he looked up.

Hermione came inside with a steaming cup of tea and a journal. She sat down in the chair opposite him and crossed her legs.

"Anything?" he asked her.

"No," she said. "I don't really think it's possible to find Harry if he doesn't want to be found. But I've said that already…" she said, opening her journal.

"How is that going to help you?" he asked, nodding to the journal.

"I enjoy writing," she replied as she scanned her pages. "I can write about anything, you know. It's very therapeutic. Harry's a good subject because he's so dynamic. I have some entries about him," she said as she passed the small book to him, "I thought they might help." 

Marc scanned the pages then shook his head slowly. "You have an interesting view of Harry, don't you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she responded somewhat defensively.

"You find him pleasant to be around and somewhat helpless. He's not. Harry is very twisted."

Hermione snatched the book out of his hands and scowled. "No he's not," she said. "How dare you say that about him."

Marc rolled his eyes and laid his hands on his desk. "He finds amusement in frightening people. He has a number of long and unexplained absences, and he's legally and medically insane."

"No he's not," she said with her lips quivering.

"I think it would be wise of you to consider that Harry is sick and your feelings for him are getting in the way." he asked. 

Hermione stood up and looked away.

"You're being naïve, Hermione. Your love for him is blinding you from the truth. Harry is a criminal now; he is not the same person you grew up with as a child."

She bit her lip again and dropped her eyelids. "Love has nothing to do with it," she whispered. "Surely someone of your expertise can recognize someone who needs help. Can't you?" she asked. "I know he's one of those people. But he is not a criminal. He is not a murderer!" she said.

"He may not think he is," Marc replied quickly.

There was a knock on the door. Marc looked away from Hermione's emotional face and answered it.

Ron, who looked tired and weary, came into the office, accompanied by a young woman who Marc assumed was Vanessa Devereaux, as she fit Harry's description perfectly. Ron walked to Hermione and gave her a supportive hug, while Vanessa took a quick look at the contents in the room, then hugged Hermione too.

Ron sat down in a chair and Vanessa conjured one for herself, then sat down next to him. There was complete silence for several minutes as the four of them simply breathed. Ron kept checking Hermione, Hermione kept throwing scathing looks at Marc, and Vanessa was staring at the gold watch on Marc's left wrist. 

"Do we have any idea," Marc started, "where Harry might be?"

"Well who have you contacted so far?" Vanessa asked. "Hasn't he met a lot of people in the past few years?" 

"Certainly. I know the Hit Wizards have contacted Rourke Everett, one of his friends from Auror training, but he hasn't seen or heard from Harry. He's not at Hogwarts, and for some reason the Ministry feels it necessary to keep watch over number four Privet Drive, which is a complete waste of time. But Harry's life after He-who-must-not-be-named wasn't watched much. That's the reason we have the advantage."

"You think we know more than that?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Harry goes away and we don't know where. He could be halfway across the world and we wouldn't know about it. He doesn't tell us stuff anymore."

Marc drummed his fingers on his desk, as Vanessa was doing. "What about past girlfriends?" he asked. "Didn't he have quite a few?" 

"Something like eleven," Ron said, crinkling his nose. "Or twelve. Maybe thirteen…"

Vanessa laughed. "Got around, didn't he?" she asked. 

Hermione didn't respond to Vanessa but finally looked in the general direction of the conversation. "Piper O'Connelley was the first girl he dated in training. Then there were a few I never met," Hermione said. "Anya and Julian were some others, but I don't know their last names. Harry had a lot of women."

Marc thought for a moment. "Twelve or thirteen in three years? There was no commitment."

"Well he did date Piper for a few months, but he overheard a conversation she was having with her friends about him. I guess it didn't go well. He never told me what she said," Hermione told him. 

Vanessa looked at her briefly then stood up, bumping into Marc's desk as she did so. "Oops. Uh, where's the loo?" she asked. Marc told her. "Thanks," she said and left.

"Why did you bring her?" Hermione sniped suddenly at Ron. "She doesn't know Harry, why is she here?" 

"Support," Ron said. "Besides, she's really smart and she might have something to add."

"Smart? What does she do for a living? She hustles people out of money, that's what she does. She probably dropped out of school," Hermione added snottily.

"She finished, and it's not like you need to finish school. Fred and George didn't and they have more money than me or my family ever had."

"Could we focus on the problem at hand?" Marc interrupted. "Your friend Harry, remember?"

Hermione gave Ron a look, and then glanced back to Marc. "We should start with Piper, I guess. She might know the names of the other girls he was with. She might even know where Harry is," Hermione said. "I'll go find her." Hermione pushed herself out of her chair and left.

"We won't find him," Ron said once Hermione was out of earshot. "We won't."

It was now afternoon. Dana was enjoying the remains of a chocolate cake mix which she was licking from the bowl as she sat on the floor. Audrey had pulled her hair back into a pony tail, which was good; it appeared as if most of the chocolate had missed her mouth completely and landed on her cheeks and nose instead. 

Harry watched with a smile from a distance, his hands in his pockets. Audrey stood next to him with her arm through one of his. "She is cute," Audrey said. "But I have a bias."

"She looks just like you," he said evenly. "Down to the last dimple."

"And my eyes, unfortunately. I wish she had gotten Aiden's pretty blue eyes. Ah well, better luck next time I suppose," she said lightly, not looking into his face.

Harry pushed himself off the wall and walked outside.

"I can actually hear my biological clock ticking some times, Harry," she said as she followed him out. Harry ignored her and stared into the backyard.

"I forgot how nice it is to see the sun," he said.

"Yes," she said, taking his hand again. "Tick," she said, "tick."

Harry screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

"Tick."

"No, stop that," Harry said, pulling his hand away from hers. "Stop it now."

Audrey frowned. "No. I want to talk about this, Harry. I'm twenty-nine years old and my childbearing years are limited. I want more children and I want them with you."

Harry stomped away from her and threw his hands up in the air. "Geeze, leave me the hell alone with this! How many times do I have to say I don't want more! I said no, Audrey, NO!" he yelled, casting her a dirty glance.

"Don't you dare," she said silently and eerily soft, "talk to me like that. Apologize to me right now before I leave. Say you're sorry and mean it."

Harry placed his hands on his hips and continued to frown at her. "Sorry," he said insincerely.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" Audrey said. "Why do you come here, Harry? Hmmm? Why do you come back every few months? Do you honestly think Dana and I are just coats hanging in a closet waiting to be used when you need us? Is that how you think of us? Because I have to tell you, I don't appreciate being treated like this. Apologize before I really get angry."

Harry dropped his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've had a rough week, okay?"

"It wasn't my fault," she said. "Treat me like you love me." 

Harry nodded as he looked down at his feet. "I don't want to think about bringing a child into this world with all the chaos going on in my life right now, that's all," he said.

Audrey nodded and let out a long sigh. "You should have said that instead of blowing up in my face. I can understand that. But you didn't want to talk about it before all this happened, either. I know what you worry about and it's well founded, but you're doing fine with Dana."

"I'm sure I'll screw her up along the way somehow," he mumbled. "I just can't stop thinking about that hearing… I wish I could."

Audrey was about to speak when Dana, covered in chocolate, came running outside with her sticky hands high in the air.

"Done!" she exclaimed.

"Great!" Audrey replied. "Now daddy can give you a bath while mummy goes shopping," she said, winking at Harry.

"YAY!" Dana yelled and she ran back into the house, presumably to get ready for the bath.

Harry whirled around to face Audrey. "I can't give her a bath. You always do that."

Audrey tapped his cheeks with her hands then kissed him. "It's time to remove the training wheels, Harry. She knows what to do. Make sure you get her wet and use soap. Then rinse and dry her. And don't let her run around the house naked even though she'll want to. You'll do fine," she said, and then she walked out of the house, grabbing her purse on the way out.

Harry stood frozen to the spot. _A bath_? He had helped before, that was all. He stood by and watched to make sure Dana would stay in the tub while Audrey would clean her. He had never done it himself, though.

"C'mon daddy," Dana said as she pulled off her shirt then walked into the bathroom. Harry moved forward after her. 

Dana was sitting completely naked in the empty tub awaiting her bath. Harry kneeled down before it then turned on the water. That seemed to make the most sense.

"Cold," she said, her face screwing up.

"Sorry," he said. He placed his hand on the wall and instantly the water was pleasantly warm. "Is that better?" he asked.

She nodded then started to splash herself with water, much of it getting on Harry and the bathroom floor. He grabbed a bottle shaped like a frog and started pouring whatever was in it, in the tub. Harry found out that it made bubbles.

"Now what?" he asked himself.

Dana grabbed a sponge and a bar of soap and handed it to him. "Use dis all ovew me," she said. "Hey," she said, pointing her tiny finger at Harry's head. "What happened?"

Harry wet the sponge and made lather with the soap. "I bumped my head yesterday," he told her. Dana stood up and held on to his hair so she didn't slip as Harry scrubbed her off. He was amazed that she got chocolate on her stomach.

"Did it huwt?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll have to be more careful next time," he said. 

Then Dana did something he did not expect. With her hands tightly secured to his head, she leaned in closer to him and kissed his forehead very quickly. She pulled back to smile at him and said, "Dewre, awl bettewr," and she sat back down in the tub and played with her rubber duck.

It took a while for Harry to come back to reality. He looked down at her, as she hummed to herself and splashed in the tub, and thought. A huge balloon of some kind of emotion welled up inside him while his eyes fought to hold back a few small tears.

"Can I pway a wittle wongewr?" she asked, submerging her duck and wash cloth.

Harry nodded.

Dana giggled then scooped up some soap bubbles and threw them on Harry's head. Harry took some bubbles and put them on her nose.

She giggled some more then splashed Harry, laughing continually.

Harry was sure Audrey wouldn't allow that kind of behavior… but she wasn't around. He splashed her back. In what turned out to be five minutes of constant splashing which soaked Harry and the rest of the bathroom, Dana emptied her tub and was still fighting with the soapy sponge. 

"Okay that's enough," Harry said when he took the sponge away, unable to conceal his smile. "You're mother's going to kill me when she finds out we did this. Let's rinse and get you dried off, okay?"

"Okay, daddy," she giggled, smacking his hair with her soapy hand.

It took them another five minutes to rinse and dry, mostly because Dana continued to play and prove difficult. Once Harry had her wrapped in a towel he carried her to her very pink bedroom and tossed her on her bed, which caused her even more contagious giggles. Harry opened one of her chest of drawers and pulled out an outfit for her, which she put on mostly by herself.

When she gave a big yawn Harry knew it was nap time, Audrey's favorite time of day. She leaned her head on one of her pillows and yawned again.

"Wead me a stowy," she said.

"Which one?" Harry asked her. Dana crawled over to her book shelf and pulled out her favorite story _Green Eggs and Ham_. Harry sat down on the floor next to her bed and opened the Dr. Seus classic and began to read. He couldn't help but laugh slightly as he rhymed the fake words and heard Dana giggling beside and behind him. But once Harry reached the end and he closed the book, he saw that Dana was fast asleep with her mouth slightly open. He brushed her cheek with the back of her hand then bent down to kiss her.

As he shut her bedroom door behind her, he saw Audrey leaning against the wall smiling at him. She winked and gave him two thumbs up.

"Really?" he asked with a sigh of relief.

"You were great," she whispered, taking him by the hands and leading him outside to the porch.

"You're not just saying that because you think I'm mentally unbalanced?"

Audrey snickered and shook her head. "I don't think you're mentally unbalanced, do you think you are?"

"Of course not," he said to her with half a smile.

"I love it when you're done playing with her. You're always in a better mood." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and beamed at him. Harry knew she had the most beautiful smile in the world.

"She has that effect on people," he told her.

"So now that she's down for a good hour, you want to tell me what happened, like why the Ministry of Magic thinks you're the leader of the Black Order? Because I can't see how they could make that connection. Didn't you say in the letters that Malfoy was part of the Order? That he stabbed you and nearly killed you? Isn't it well known that you detest that family?"

Harry nodded and fidgeted. "Uh huh," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well that's kinda what I said to Arthur at the hearing yesterday," he answered, then swallowed.

"You're not telling me something," she said. "Harry, I'm not a stupid person. Why do they think you're leading the Black Order?" she asked.

Harry swallowed again, though this time it hurt a little. "They asked me some questions I couldn't really answer," he said, then looked around at all Audrey's flowers in the garden.

"What kind of questions?" she asked.

"The kind they ask at hearings."

"Harry," she said, moving closer to him and pinning him against the wall. "What did they ask you?"

Harry stared into her brown eyes for several seconds. He sometimes thought that Audrey could get so angry that she could shoot laser beams out of her eyes and suck the life out of him.

"They asked," he started calmly, hoping the emotion would pass on to her, "where I would go for great lengths of time," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes at the last moment.

"And what did you answer them?" she asked.

"Er," he said.

"Don't give me 'er' Harry. Please tell me that you weren't trying to protect us again and shot yourself in the foot because of it," she said still getting closer to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't change the subject. What did you tell them?"

"I said that I…" he cast his mind out for a lie but nothing came to him. "I said that I…"

"You said what?" she pushed, raising her eyebrows in inquiry. "Just answer the question."

"I-said-I-couldn't-tell-them," he rushed out then screwed his eyes shut.

"You did what?" she asked silently. Sometimes Harry thought she wouldn't be as scary if she just yelled. But she never yelled. "No wonder, Harry. Why couldn't you have told them the truth and ended it all. I am so sick and tired of being the secret wife who only sees her husband once in a great while. Why did you tell them that lie?" she asked.

"Hey, what was I supposed to say, huh? 'Oh that time, well I was with my secret wife and adopted daughter.'?"

"Yes," Audrey replied. "Harry you're digging your own hole, don't you get that? You've made them even more suspicious. How many times do I have to tell you that I hate being shrouded in secret?"

"You know it has to be this way," he said firmly.

"No, you think it does," she said, poking him in the chest. "You're so paranoid."

"Am I?" he asked, raising his voice. "I have to sit down and count, with my fingers, how many times someone has tried to kill me. You think I'm paranoid? You know that the only way you and Dana can stay safe is if no one knows I'm married to you."

"_That_ is paranoia," she said.

"I don't want to have this conversation again," he said, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Too bad 'cause we're having it," she said back. "I'm tired of it, Harry, truly I am. You have no idea how terrifying it is knowing your spouse has been stabbed in the heart and you can't go into his room and wait by his side. I went to that hospital but I couldn't go in."

"You were there?" he asked angrily. "You went down there? Someone could have seen you, what were you thinking?"

"What was I thinking?" she asked facetiously. "I was thinking I was going to be a widow again, that's what I was thinking. I was thinking I was about to lose the man I loved, how about that? I was thinking my daughter would lose her father. I was thinking I wanted to be with you while you were sleeping. I was thinking of how much I love you and how badly I would miss you! And I didn't care about your paranoia or being seen. I was seen, Harry. I waited in that room to hear what was happening to you. I saw your friends in tears as they awaited the news. But guess what, they got to see you after the Healers worked on you, but I couldn't. Your friends, _your friends, _who know nothing about your secret life, got to see you before your wife and daughter did. We couldn't see you because you didn't want us to."

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "You just don't get it," he said to her. "If someone found out that I had you and Dana, they would use you against me. They would hurt you to hurt me. Don't you understand that?"

Audrey rolled her eyes, her head following the motion. "That's because you're paranoid."

"Am I?" he asked.

"Yes. God, this conversation is going in a huge circle. You remember what I told you when you searched me out three years ago?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Harry also crossed his arms. "You said Dana would always go before me," he answered.

"Yes I did. That's what good parents do, Harry. The lives and welfare of their children always go before their own. Dana's welfare always goes before what I want. Dana needs a father who's around and not secret. She needs someone real who can take her to games and teach her about life. Reading her a story is one thing, but she's three and a half. One day that won't work anymore. She'll grow up and want more from you."

Harry shook his head and clenched his teeth. "I want her to live, Audrey. Isn't it more important for her to live than to have me around all the time?" he asked.

Audrey relaxed her shoulders and smiled thoughtfully, now looking to the wall. "I don't know," she said silently. "What do you think, Dumbledore?"

**

Vanessa was sitting comfortably in her conjured chair, sipping a cappuccino and reading a book. Ron was looking over some notes Marc had given him to read, and the doctor was listening to his tapes.

At four o'clock Hermione came back into the office looking crestfallen. "Nothing. Piper didn't keep in contact with Harry after the break up. Then I tried contacting Rourke Everett, but he's on assignment somewhere. If he knew anything important he wouldn't help us find Harry. I'm sure he thinks the charges are outrageous, too."

"Hey," Ron said suddenly, "why couldn't they just use Veritaserum on Harry at the hearing?"

Vanessa looked up from her book to answer. "Veritaserum isn't really approved for formal hearings. It can be used in an actual trial, but there are conditions under which it can and can't be used. I don't think there is any record of the use of Vertiaserum against an Auror as powerful as Harry. But if they find Harry for the trial, no doubt they will administer it." 

Ron looked over at Hermione. "Is that right?" he asked her, to which Hermione nodded.

"They don't use it because there's a good chance that someone tampered with it. It could be a weak mix in which case you do answer the truth, but only to easy questions like 'what's your name?' Or it could be so strong that the drinker is actually horribly confused and just tells everything, even if it's not relevant to the question," Vanessa added.

"Oh," Ron said.

"She's right though," Hermione said, "they will put Harry on it. They just have to find a potions master they can trust. In the mean time," she said, checking her watch, "it's getting late. We've been over everything available to us, which is pathetic considering we're Harry's best friends, and we've found nothing. We're no closer to finding him than this morning."

Vanessa closed her book and sat up in her chair. "Does he have a girlfriend now?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head pensively. "I don't believe so. He said he'd never lie to me and I asked him several times."

"He's not gay, is he?" Vanessa said. "You know, desiring the love of a man to compensate for the absence of a father figure."

Hermione let out a small laugh, as did Marc.

"Good analysis, but he didn't really have the love of a mother for very long either. Besides," Marc said now looking to Hermione, "I got the impression that Harry would frown on that, correct me if I'm wrong, Hermione."

"I never spoke to him about it, but probably. He's not gay," she told Vanessa, but she was still smirking. "He's definitely not gay," she added with a laugh.

"Well from what Ron told me about the Jennifer incident, he doesn't treat women very well. Then there was the thing with beating you up," she said.

Hermione stopped laughing. "That was an accident," she said. "He thought I was someone else. That's kind of why we're here."

"Please, Hermione," Ron said, turning to her. "He's insane, Doctor Simon's said so. There is no Leucosia, it's all in his head. Right Doctor?" he said.

"He's not insane, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "You're just trying to find a good excuse for beating him up to make yourself feel better."

"I am not! He hurt you now you're making excuses for him. 'Oh Ron he just needs our help,'" he said in a girly voice. "Please don't insult my intelligence. He's sick, Hermione. He beat up you and Doctor Simon because he's seeing things that aren't there!"

"What if he _is_ telling the truth? What if this siren woman has set him up and now everything is playing out like she planned?"

"What if he's not, Hermione? What if Harry's finally blown a gasket in his head? What if after the life he's lived he can't take it anymore and he snapped? Harry never left the backyard yet he insists he went somewhere."

Hermione was about to retort when Vanessa made them stop and had them look at Marc, who was frantically searching through his notes.

"Did you find something?" Vanessa asked.

"I think I did," he answered, his face alight with joy. "You're brilliant, Miss Deverauex. It _has_ been right under my nose all along. At Dumbledore's party Ron brought Jennifer and Harry got her so angry that she left. But Harry's not stupid, and while he takes pleasure in getting a rise out of someone, there's always some kind of purpose to it. So why get rid of Jennifer?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Hermione raised her head to look him in the eye. "Because she said Harry was talking to other women," she said slowly.

"No," Marc said shaking his head, "just one other woman. Harry had to make Jennifer Williams so angry that not only would she leave, but she wouldn't want to associate with Ron. The other woman is our answer. And Miss Williams knows what she looks like. You wouldn't want to go and find her, would you Hermione? Tomorrow morning perhaps, so we could start fresh?" Marc asked.

Hermione's facial expression was hard for even him to read. It looked as though she was mildly curious about this mystery woman Harry could be with, but afraid that it might be real. Marc made a note of it when Hermione agreed and departed for home.

Then he rose to shake Ron's hand, who also looked conflicted at the moment. Ron said something about talking to his brothers and sister about Harry, and then he started to leave. Vanessa also shook Marc's had, but tripped and lost balance. Marc stopped her from falling then led her to the door.

"Tomorrow morning," he said to them as he shut the door. "We'll find Harry before they do."

**

The night stars were always brighter when the city lights were far off and unseen. A few crickets were making their nightly symphonies, while several bugs were committing suicide as they tried to penetrate the porch lights. The zapping sound was starting to annoy Harry so he turned off the light.

"You're thinking again," Audrey said from behind him. "You're brooding in silence, aren't you?"

Harry nodded but did not turn around to face her.

"I know you've had a rough year so far," she said, "and I'm sorry if I stressed you out even more. But I do have a child to think about."

"I know," he said. He leaned on the porch railing and plucked a twig from a small growing tree, then transfigured it into a cigarette. He clearly heard Audrey sigh as he lit it up.

"I don't like you smoking, Harry," she said in a much different tone than before. "I liked you as a nonsmoker."

Harry breathed it in anyway and immediately he relaxed and exhaled it out.

"You're addicted to them at this point," she continued.

"You know why I smoke, Audrey," he mumbled. He heard her steps fall behind him then she came to his side. She put an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"I know. But the plan was to make it better, not so you would get addicted," she said. She passed her hands through his hair and kissed his cheeks a few more times. Harry shut his eyes and slumped over the banister.

"I'm not addicted," he said.

"Then why are you smoking when you're alone?" she asked softly, snuggling into him now.

"Because I want to. If I wanted to quit, I would, but I don't." He took in one last breath of it then the cigarette vanished into thin air. "There," he said, turning to look at her, "better?"

She caressed the side of his face and stared into his sad eyes. "If you just tell them about us, Harry, then everything will be okay again. We can be a family all the time, not just when you want us. Can't you imagine that?" she whispered, now holding his face in her thin hands. "You come home from work to a house. There's a fire made and your daughter has drawn a stick person picture of the three of us holding hands. She shows it to you then pastes it on the refrigerator. When she's older we can take her to dance recitals then Hogwarts and see her off. And every time you come home from saving the world, I'll be there to hold you, just like this," she said, kissing the shrinking bruise on his forehead. "I'm always afraid," she continued, "that one day your shoulders will collapse under all that weight. You need me to help you. You need Dana and me to help you. How does that sound?" she asked.

Harry slowly shut his eyes and turned his head away. "I can't have that," he said. "I'm afraid someone will hurt you, and I can't handle that. I know my own limits and I couldn't bear to lose you or her. We spent an hour discussing this, I know. But I am afraid. I don't fear my own death, only yours and Dana's."

Audrey did not reply with a retort of some kind, nor did she intend on arguing. "Why are you so confident that we won't be found?" she asked, taking Harry's hand to show she was calm. "Won't your friends wonder why you've lived alone for so long? Won't they question you?"

Now Harry smiled sadly and focused on her hand inside his. "No," he said. He moved his thumb up and down the back of her hand. "They won't."

"Why not?" she asked.

Harry looked up at her with moist eyes, but he did not cry. "They know I'm afraid," he told her in a whisper. "And because of that they're sure that I'll protect myself for the rest of my life. Even if they see me die alone, they'll think that I chose to live that way. That's why they won't find you or Dana, because '_Harry isn't capable of it_.' They're sure that I am terrified of losing someone close to me. For the past few years I've been pushing them away, in hopes they would reaffirm that theory. But I can't push them completely. I don't want to lose them too, especially in that way."

Audrey stood up straight and Harry did the same. Then she encircled him in her arms and leaned on him, her lips inches from him.

"So you see," he said to her, "you're safe from the evil out there."

She framed his face with her hands then pulled him closer to her for a kiss. Harry let her do it, but he didn't respond. Audrey, far from being offended, kept trying. She rested her arms around his shoulders and stood on her tip-toes so they were the same height. At first her kiss was soft but then she grew more forceful. Finally, Harry picked up his end and kissed her back. She winced slightly as he did so, as Harry was always rough when he first started.

But in a few moments, he was himself again, though still slightly rough. He pushed himself against her just a little too hard and he had a tendency to bite her lip, though he would sometimes apologize for it. But tonight there wasn't a whole lot of talking. Once they made it into the bedroom and the door was shut, Harry's pent up energy seemed to explode. Audrey was glad that Harry had put several spells, including sound proof ones, on the room.

**

The following morning Audrey was getting out of bed when Harry, laughing, reached out for her and pulled her back in then attacked her with kisses. She laughed loudly and pretended to fight against him (though she wasn't doing well). He pinned her down to the bed and intertwined his fingers in hers, grinning like a fool.

"Gottcha," he said to her.

"Well yeah," she said giggling, "you're stronger than I am. Now kiss me," she commanded him, which he obliged. He released his grip on her then sunk down and pushed his hands behind her back. He could feel her smiling against his lips, which swelled up that balloon in his chest again.

They heard the bedroom door open and saw, once they broke away, Dana making a running jump for the bed. Audrey kissed Harry's cheek then pushed him aside so she could put on a shirt.

Dana headed for Harry first and tackled him the best she could.

"Good Mowning, daddy!" she yelled, smiling from ear to ear. She attached to him like a giant leech and didn't let go. He found himself laughing and hugging her in return. Audrey looked over and grinned, passing her hand through his hair.

"Dana, do you want to go get the newspaper from the owl?" Audrey asked her.

Dana simply nodded, carefully jumped off the bed, and ran out of the room.

"Just one more baby," Audrey snuck in, pinching Harry's cheek. Instead of getting angry like yesterday, Harry rolled his eyes and kissed her again.

Dana ran back into the room with _The_ _Daily Prophet_ in hand. She climbed on the bed then sat in between Harry and Audrey, giving the paper to her mother.

"Wook, daddy," Dana said as she showed Harry a feather. "Da owl dwopped it when it fwew away."

Harry beamed at her. "Wow," he said as he touched it. Dana turned around to show Audrey, but her mother's face was fixed on the front page.

"Daddy's on da papew!" Dana said excitedly. Harry's grin faded fast as he looked to see.

The first thing he noticed was the picture of himself, looking strangely menacing. It was very large and resembled a photo taken of a prisoner, though he knew it was the picture taken for the Ministry's record on him as an Auror. The headline below it made him grateful that Dana was still too young to read.

**_HARRY POTTER ESCAPES: WANTED BY MINISTRY OF MAGIC FOR CHARGES OF MURDER!_**

Who would have thought that the vanquisher of He-who-must-not-be-named would have turned to murdering innocent people? Apparently the Ministry of Magic does. According to sources who cannot be named in this article, Harry Potter, 24, was formally charged for leading the elusive group dubbed the "Black Order." In a preliminary hearing held, Potter was "Evasive and incredibly suspicious," says Internal Affairs Officer, Columbus Blair. "We always knew Potter would snap one day," Blair continued. "It was only a matter of when and who the victim would be."

Harry Potter was arrested on assault charges against his long time best friend, Hermione Granger (President of S.P.E.W.). After alleging that he had never attacked her, Potter was secured in a maximum security cell in St. Mungo's so he could receive appropriate psychiatric treatment and questioning.

Though the main details of his temporary incarceration have not been released, the Ministry told The Daily Prophet_ that Potter is "violent and shouldn't be approached." He escaped from his cell and is still eluding authorities. Anyone with information about Harry Potter's whereabouts is to contact the Ministry of Magic Hot Flu Network._

Potter is not registered as an Animagus, but the Ministry of Magic is not ruling out the possibility that he might be one. Possible animals he could be are: lion, bear, stag, or possibly a bird of prey. If anyone sees one of these animals acting suspiciously, please contact the Ministry of Magic.

Harry Potter has black hair, green eyes, and square rimmed glasses. He is six feet one inch tall, 190 pounds. The Ministry of Magic also released the possibility that Potter might be concealing the fact that he is a Metamorphmagus, in which case he could change his appearance at will.

The rest of the article, continued on many pages, told of Harry's past and called for, "Potter to turn himself in."

Harry looked away from the paper and watched Dana play with the owl feather. Audrey rolled the paper back up and tossed it in the trash, where according to her, "it belonged."

"They didn't even have a counter opinion," Audrey said angrily, getting out of bed and dressing herself. "You need to tell them that you were here all that time they wondered about, not out killing people!" she said.

Harry looked down at his hands. "They suspect me of being a metamorph," he mumbled. "That's not good," he said.

"You can't hide something like that," Audrey replied. "Can't they detect that somehow?" She sighed. "Well, maybe not. You're not very good at it."

"Hey," he said to her, frowning.

"You don't practice enough is all. Why are we discussing this?" she asked. "You need to contact them and tell them about Dana and me," she said. "Then the charges will be dropped."

But Harry didn't move or look at her. He kept watching Dana, who wasn't playing anymore because of the sudden shift in mood.

"What if they suspect the other thing?" he asked. "If they know, it won't matter that I was here."

Audrey shook her head but didn't say anything. She began to pace and continually threw her hair out of her eyes. Eventually she picked Dana off the bed and took her out of the room so Harry could get dressed. But he didn't move when they left. All he could do was wonder.

**

After reading and rereading the article in the paper, Hermione finally got up and stormed out of her bedroom for the kitchen. She poured herself some orange juice and walked back to her room so she could get dressed for the day. She also sent an owl out to Sparks Publishing telling them that she was trying to find Harry. Her employer had no contention with this. When her routine was complete, she headed out for Doctor Simon's office in St. Mungo's.

He was wide awake with a steaming cup of coffee in hand and was, as she expected, reading the newspaper. Hermione walked in without saying hello and dropped into a chair. Without looking up at her to say good morning, Marc pushed a sheet of paper at her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Jennifer William's address. Would you mind finding her and bringing her in here? I have a feeling she'll respond better to you than Ron, and she doesn't know who I am," he said, still reading the paper.

"Fine," Hermione said casually. She examined the address then popped herself out of his office and appeared outside the residence of Jennifer Williams, a small flat. She knocked a few times on the door and waited.

As she stood there, Hermione mulled over all that Harry had told her. It wouldn't make sense if he was staying with some woman, would it? Harry told her he wasn't dating anyone, and if he was committed to a woman, wouldn't he tell her so? They were best friends after all, weren't they? Harry, Ron, and Hermione; weren't they the inseparable trio of friends?

The flat door opened and Jennifer walked into the doorway.

"Hello, Jennifer," Hermione said, ridding her brain of her thoughts. "Do you remember me?"

Jennifer squinted and bit her lip in concentration. "Aren't you Harry Potter's friend?" she asked.

Hermione smiled and nodded. So she did remember. Would she cooperate was the question. "Yes. Hermione Granger. We met back in November at Dumbledore's birthday party. You were Ron's date."

"Yeah," Jennifer said, stepping out into the hallway as the memory came back to her. "You were dating that good looking Quidditch player. Are you still seeing him?" she asked.

Hermione shut her eyes and waved her hands. "Well sort of, I guess. Anyway, you heard that Harry escaped right?" she asked, trying to keep things focused.

"Yeah," she said with a grin. "They won't find him, but I hope they do. He's a jerk, but a murderer? It'll be an interesting trial," she said.

Hermione liked Jennifer less and less but she tried not to show it. "Yes," she said. "The thing is, Ron and I are looking for him so we can get this all sorted out. We think he might be staying with a woman and you see," she said, placing one hand on her hip, "we think you know who that woman is."

Jennifer's face suddenly broke into happiness. "Oh really?" she asked.

"Back in November you said that Harry was talking to another woman at that Auror initiation party he asked you to?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Jennifer said, nodding vigorously. "You think she's the woman he's shagging now?" she asked.

Hermione's face reddened. "Well I don't know about that, but she might know where Harry is. Do you remember what she looked like?" she asked.

Jennifer nodded again and asked Hermione if she would like her to describe her. Hermione said yes, but asked her to come along so they could formalize everything with magical aid. Jennifer agreed.

At ten that morning Jennifer, Marc, Hermione, Ron, and Vanessa were all packed into a small room with many funny instruments placed on a triangular desk. Jennifer was seated on the hypotenuse of the table while everyone else stood around her. Marc placed a small silver triangle on Jennifer's temple, which he said was to help her remember and pinpoint the real physical features of this mystery woman. Directly in front of Jennifer, placed on the desk, was an oval shaped frame, only there was nothing in the frame.

"All right Miss Williams," Marc said as he set up everything on the desk, "I'm going to ask you some questions about her appearance and your memory of her will slowly begin to appear on this screen. Do you understand?" he asked, pulling up a chair along side her.

"Yeah," she said, resting her hands on the table.

"Let's begin then. I want you to concentrate hard on her face. You said you only saw her for a moment or two because you were angry with Harry for speaking to her. I want you to forget about him completely and build the scene around you." He watched the screen appear. It was quite blurry but there were shapes taking place.

"Isn't there a faster way to do this?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes, but you don't want us to see the memory directly, remember?" Marc said. "Extracting it would be fine, but you don't want to do that, right?" 

Jennifer laughed and nodded. "Too right. I don't want you snooping around in my head."

Marc lowered his glasses and pinched his nose. "That's why we're doing this. Now could you please concentrate on this woman?"

Jennifer looked back at the screen and waited for Marc's next question.

"You're at the party and you see Harry talking to a woman. What color hair does she have?" he asked.

Two blurry but solid figures appeared on the screen, one of a man and another shaped like a woman.

"Dark brown I think. And it was short. It was cut just above her shoulders and right below her jaw line," Jennifer said. Marc jotted down the note and the screen showed the woman with hair Jennifer had described.

"Walk closer to her, Jennifer," he told her. The picture on the screen became clearer and the image of the woman sharpened up dramatically.

"Her eyes," Marc said, "what color were they?"

"Brown. She had perfect teeth, and a super model figure," Jennifer added on her own. Now the woman on the screen was perfectly clear and everyone in the room stared at her beautiful face. "She was older than Harry. She had to be twenty-five or so."

Marc stared at her then pushed a button on an instrument which would search out that face.

"I remember her so clearly because I saw her face in the newspaper," Jennifer said.

Marc nearly snapped his neck by turning his head so quickly. "She was in the newspaper?" he asked. "Do you know her name?" he asked.

"Sure," Jennifer said. Everyone in the room let out exasperated sighs. "Well you only said you wanted me to describe her to you," Jennifer said nastily at all of them.

"What's her name?" Marc asked eagerly. 

Jennifer sat back in her chair and smiled. "Wyatt. Audrey Wyatt. She's a widow. Her husband Aiden Wyatt died from some kind of virus."

Marc sat up and looked around at the others. "Ron," he said, "could you find out where Miss Wyatt lives?" he asked, then looked back to Jennifer. "Thanks for your help. Is there anything else you want to tell us?" he asked.

"I hope you find him," she said, then she left without a goodbye.

"What a pleasant girl," Vanessa said sarcastically. "Are you okay, Hermione?" she asked, for Hermione was looking white in the face.

Hermione nodded then sat down while Ron and Marc left the room to find this Audrey woman. She hadn't known Vanessa for very long so she wasn't real keen on telling her what her real problem was, even if she had one. In all honesty Hermione wasn't sure what she was feeling, but she knew it wasn't happiness.

"You love him, don't you?" Vanessa asked suddenly but not in her usual manner. She sat down beside Hermione and smiled kindly at her.

"What?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"You love Harry, right?" she asked.

"Why would you ask me that?" Hermione inquired.

Vanessa grinned and pulled her long black hair behind her. "Your cheeks glow pink when his name is mentioned," she stared. "You defend his behavior even though it's wrong. You believe him even though you haven't heard what he has to say directly, and now that there's a possibility that Harry might have someone else, you look ready to cry," she said.

Hermione stared into her dark eyes and opened her mouth to counter Vanessa, but couldn't.

"There's nothing wrong with loving him," Vanessa added. "There really isn't. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, Hermione. He struck me as someone who needed more of it, you know?" she said, continuing to smile kindly at her.

Marc and Ron came back into the room holding a small slip of paper.

"Did you find her?" Hermione asked.

"Yep," Ron said with a nod.

"I think you and Ron should pay her a visit. The moment anyone outside Harry's circle of friends starts to question her, she'd get defensive. Remember, the only thing we know is that she talked to Harry at that party. Don't start accusing her of doing anything else or knowing anything else about Harry."

Hermione made a casual gesture to Marc and took the slip of paper in Ron's hand. She stared down at the name and address, written in Ron's untidy scrawl, and traced her fingers over it. Audrey Wyatt. A beautiful woman, probably sophisticated, with possible knowledge of Harry…

"Good luck," Vanessa said. She kissed Ron's cheek and squeezed Hermione's shoulder and winked at her. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

**

The Wizarding Wireless Network was just like any other radio station one might find on a Muggle radio. Occasionally music would be played, though advertisements were more frequent, talk show hosts would give their opinions about current events, and the news was played at the top of the hour. Audrey would usually leave the radio on so she could hear everything offered, even a few advertisements. But today she had to turn it off. No music was played, no advertisements were put on, and the talk show hosts had taken over the news. But the news didn't just come on at the top of the hour. The news was on twenty four hours this day and it all concerned Harry.

How anyone could talk about Harry constantly for so long was beyond the Potters comprehension, as there really wasn't much news to report. The hosts would have to keep repeating themselves, usually rearranging their sentences, and act as though new news had come in, though it hadn't. When Dana began to listen in with her parents, Audrey turned it off then began to bake.

"You made a cake yesterday," Harry said from the dining room table as Audrey drew out one of many cookbooks.

"I know that," she said coolly as she ran her finger down the pages.

Audrey had been frosty all morning after Harry repeated his position on telling the Ministry about his secret family. He told her she didn't understand the stakes, and she told him he was paranoid. Harry made the horrible mistake of bringing up the fact that the conversation had been discussed over a hundred times, then Audrey shut him off.

"How long are you going to be mad at me?" he asked.

"I'm not mad," she said in the same cold tone as she slammed her ingredients on the counter.

"Of course not," he told her. "What are you, then?" he asked.

Audrey snapped her head around to stare at him. "What do you think, Harry?" she asked. "Use the brain God gave you."

"I can't tell anyone about you until I kill Leucosia, okay? You don't know how powerful she is, you really don't. She could pop the Black Order right into this house and kill both of you. You think I want that to happen?" he asked.

"That's not a good reason, Harry. You told me all about that woman, remember? You said she already knows about us because she can see inside your mind. So what's the difference, Harry? If you tell the Ministry that the place you have been going to in the times of question is here, they'll drop the charges." 

"No they won't," Harry said. "Not if they know everything."

And for the second time that morning Audrey clenched her teeth and didn't respond to him. It took her several seconds to make a sound.

"So what will you do?" she asked him, pouring flour into the bowl. "Are you going to stay here in hiding for the rest of your life?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders then looked back at Dana who was frozen in the middle of the floor. He smiled at her and beckoned her to him. She stepped forward a little then broke out into a run. Harry scooped her up and hugged her tightly.

"I wuhve you, daddy," she said into his ear.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head on hers. "Right back at you," he said. Audrey faced him again, then shook her head as if she didn't know what to do next.

"Awre you and mummy going to stop fighting?" Dana asked loud enough so Audrey could hear.

Harry cast a quick glance at Audrey and tried smirking at her, but Audrey looked away.

"Yeah," Harry said.

There was a knock on the door. Audrey stopped measuring flour and looked to Harry, who was now staring at her.

"Can I get it?" Dana asked.

"No," Harry said. He got up, Dana still in his arms, and walked over to the door to look through the peep hole. The distorted image that faced him caused his heart to quicken.

"Shit," he said.

"Dat's a bad wowrd!" Dana told him. Harry whipped around to face Audrey.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Ron and Hermione," Harry said. "They found me. How did they do that?" 

"Open the door and tell them the truth!" she snapped, reaching for the door handle. Harry tore her hand away from it and clenched on.

"NO!" he whispered forcefully. "I'll hide in the attic until you get them out of here. We'll talk about it later, okay?"  
"No it's not okay, Harry. We _have_ talked about it."

"They don't know about---"

"Harry that's right, they don't know. You said Clarice would never give you away, so don't worry about it."

"But they know I'm a metamorph so they'll eventually figure me out!"

"Harry, the people outside are your friends. Can't you tell them that I'm your wife?" she asked.

"Not right now. Please don't tell them!"

There was a second knock. Audrey stared into his eyes and bit her lip.

"Please, Audrey. I promise one day the truth will come out, one day soon. But it can't right now. I have to get this settled first, okay? Please do this for me. Don't tell them, please!" he said, squeezing her hand.

Audrey stared into his eyes then rolled her own and shook her head. "Fine. Get up in the attic and be quiet. You should be glad I love you so much," she added.

"Thanks," he said. He kissed her cheek and, with Dana in his arms, ran down the hall, into the laundry room, and up into the attic. Audrey waved her wand around to get rid of anything of Harry's for the moment, then opened the door.

"Hello. May I help you?" she asked.

Hermione and Ron both smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I'm Hermione Granger and this is my friend Ron Weasley. You're Audrey Wyatt, correct?" she asked.

"Yeah," Audrey said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Hermione paused and took a moment to stare into her face. She was a beautiful woman, as Jennifer's memory had shown. Her short brown hair was very shiny, with a few gray ones shown without shame. She was thin but not skinny, tall but not giant, and appeared kind. But most of all she was familiar now. Hermione had seen her before.

"We're looking for Harry Potter," Ron said after Hermione said nothing.

"The two of you are looking for him?" Audrey asked as her eyebrows rose. "I thought you had to be more equipped for that kind of thing."

"He's my best friend. We were in the same house and year at Hogwarts." Ron looked over at Hermione for support. 

She pulled herself out of her reverie and spoke. "You met Harry at the Auror initiation party in 2001, didn't you?" Hermione asked.

Audrey swallowed but nodded. "Sure. We talked a little about this and that."

Hermione smiled. "Can we come in, Mrs. Wyatt?" she asked.

"Well the house is kind of a mess," she said, looking into her kitchen, "but I suppose for just a little while…" She opened the door and allowed Hermione and Ron inside. Hermione instantly began searching around, but was slightly disappointed. There were all kinds of toys and children's clothes strewn all over the house, but no sign of Harry. Audrey sat down at her dining room table and signaled for Ron and Hermione to do the same.

"Did you keep in contact with Harry after the party?" Hermione asked.

"No," Audrey said. "We just talked a little while, about nothing important, then I had to leave. I was asked to go with my friend, otherwise I would have never been there. I had a small baby at the time. She's still small, of course, but can take care of herself more now," she said nervously. She didn't like how Hermione kept peering around.

"You made his date very jealous," Hermione said. "She told us about you. Apparently there was enough attraction from Harry's end that she felt threatened by you."

Audrey rested her hands on her lap. "That's flattering," she said softly. "But I haven't talked to him since that party."

"Why were you at the hospital on Christmas Eve?" Hermione asked abruptly.

Audrey's heart stopped. "Why do you ask?"

"That was the day Harry was admitted. I remember now, seeing you there with your daughter. You looked very upset. Remember that? You came over to our group and stayed with us until we heard Harry would be all right. Why were you there?" she asked.

Audrey crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "My boyfriend," she started, her voice shaking. She folded her hands nervously. "He was a Healer. I went to see him on Christmas Eve, but when I went into his office I found him shagging some blonde. That's why I was crying. When I left in a rage that's when the action started. I saw Harry being wheeled in and was interested, I suppose. It was a distraction and so surreal. I had talked to him, you know? I'm the kind of person who likes to help, too. I wanted to offer my support," she said at last. She couldn't help but smile a little at the success of her lie.

Hermione now looked very sorry that she had asked. "Oh," she said, looking nervously around at Ron. "We thought you might have…"

Audrey raised her eyebrows again. "Oh my," she said, "you thought I was involved with him? He's kinda young, isn't he?" she asked.

Hermione's head fell so that now she had only her folded hands to stare at. "I suppose he is. Sorry to have bothered you." She pushed herself out of the chair then walked to the door, pulling Ron with her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you," Audrey said sincerely. She opened the door and let them out.

"It isn't your fault," Hermione said with a relieved smile. But it didn't last long. As she looked back at Audrey she noticed a jar of peanut butter in the kitchen. "Peanut butter," she said breathlessly. Audrey whipped her head around to look at it.

"I'm making cookies," she lied again.

"Right," Hermione said. She backed out of the house with Ron then caught a glimpse of Audrey's wedding band. "Right," she repeated. Ron grabbed her and pulled her out of the house so Audrey could close the door. Audrey continued to watch Ron and Hermione through the peephole. They appeared to be discussing something in hushed tones then they Disapparated. Audrey sighed a breath of relief, for some reason, then got Harry and Dana from the attic.

"Well?" Harry asked her.

"Apparently you have a powerful influence over me," she said. "I lied good."

Harry beamed. "They bought it?" he said, letting Dana down. She ran out of the room making loud, excited noises.

"Hook, line, and sinker," she said. "So when are you going to tell them?" she asked.

Harry squinted into her eyes then shook his head. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked skeptically.

Audrey sighed and shut her eyes. "Hermione saw the peanut butter and my ring," she said. "I'm not that sorry about it," she added.

"Shit," he said again. "How could you leave your ring on?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Because I'm married to you all the time, not just when I want to be," she told him. "And while we're discussing the matter, I would really appreciate it if you could act civil. I'm getting tired of being the referee and coach. I haven't done anything to deserve the behavior I'm getting from you. You don't need to raise your voice at me, you don't need to yell at me, and you certainly don't need to look at me with such anger on your face. I did my best to protect you out there, so the very least you could say is 'Audrey, thanks a lot for lying on my behalf, especially when you think it's such a rotten idea.'"

Harry dropped his shoulders and let out a breath. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Thank you for lying for me," he said.

"You're welcome. I don't want to fight with you anymore so I don't want to talk about it again. You know my opinion and I know yours. There really isn't much point in continuing it." She started out of the room when Harry grabbed her hand.

"Now what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said dully.

"You're lying again," he said to her, trying to make it sound light.

"You're good at detecting that, aren't you?" she said.

Harry clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. "What do you want from me, huh?" he asked.

"A happy marriage," she answered. 

Harry swallowed. "I'm sorry you married a prick like me, then," he said.

"Don't do that," she breathed. "Why do you always have to turn it around? I shouldn't be the one feeling bad, here. All I'm asking for is better treatment from you, that's all. Can't you accept that at face value?"

Harry stared at her but without appearing confrontational or menacing.

"Treat me like you love me," she said. "Could you do that? Can you treat me as good as you do Dana?" she asked. "You used to. You used to smile all the time when you were around me. You used to be happy and you know what? I liked you better that way. I understand you're under a lot of stress, but I'm not the cause."

Harry rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

Audrey nodded and sighed, then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, which he thankfully returned. "You know I love you, right?" she said in his ear.

He nodded.

"Good," she said. "Because I do. I love you so much, Harry. So very much. I miss you when you're gone and I hate fighting with you." She kissed his cheek then continued to hug him.

Harry closed his eyes and rested the side of his head on hers. His breathing steadied and his muscles relaxed. Audrey pulled back so she could stare into his eyes and touch foreheads. 

"We'll get through this," she told him, caressing the sides of his face. "We'll be strong. One step at a time, right?" she said with that smile he loved so much. "One step at a time."

Harry smiled back and ruffled her hair with his left hand. "Is it possible to take two steps at a time?" he asked quietly.

Audrey laughed. "Yeah," she said. "It's called a jump."

Harry beamed. "Right. I'm sorry I'm such a jerk," he told her. "I don't want to be."

"I know you don't mean it, but you are sometimes. Well, a lot of times," she admitted. 

"So we're good now, yes?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. She strategically placed her hands on his head then kissed him longingly. She hooked her leg around him and waited for him to pick her up, which he did. Then he carried her back to the bedroom, tripped on a stray blanket and fell on the bed, Audrey laughed hysterically as she looked down on him. "That was graceful," she giggled.

"I planned that," he said.

Her hands quickly found the edge of his shirt and she pulled it up over his head. 

"Where's Dana?" he asked, sitting up slightly as if expecting her to walk into the room.

"Watching the tele. Her favorite show is on right now. I bet if you concentrate hard enough you can raise the volume," she said in a low sexy voice. 

"It's done," he said with a smile.

"And the door," she said, looking to it. "What about---"

The door shut peacefully as Harry glanced at it. "Total privacy."

"Perfect," she said then kissed him deeply.

**

Ron told Marc everything, which wasn't much. Hermione sat in the chair and continued to think about the peanut butter and the ring. At first she had justified the ring to herself. Audrey was a widow who loved her husband very much. But if she had moved on and was dating again, like she said, wouldn't she remove the ring? Either she was remarried, which Hermione didn't want to consider, or she was lying about the boyfriend, which also wasn't a good sign.

When Hermione went home and began cleaning her house, a number of other suspicious circumstances popped into her mind. Harry was always so grouchy when he would return from his long absences and grow excited before leaving for them. Harry had stopped dating after Jennifer---when he met Audrey. He didn't pursue women or even take a second look at them... 

Then Hermione thought back to when she was reading to him in the hospital. When Harry awoke he called out a name, but it was muffled and hard to understand. She had thought, until now, that Harry had called out to her. But the more she replayed the sound in her head, Hermione was convinced that he said, "Audrey."

A week after that, after sharing stories with him, Hermione went to kiss him, but he turned away… He didn't want to kiss her. He didn't want to and couldn't for some reason.

Hermione lay awake as her mind raced around for more circumstances… On Christmas Eve Tonks asked Harry where he was that day, and he said he was home. But when did Harry ever call his apartment 'home'? He always referred to it as 'his place' or 'his apartment' but never home.

Hermione rolled on her side and stared at the clock on her bed-stand. There was a sinking sensation growing in her gut. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she stopped herself. She moved her eyes to a portrait of Luke. He was handsome, intelligent, kind…

She sighed and shut her eyes.

**

Harry was up early the next morning. Audrey and Dana were both still asleep. The sun had yet to rise. He sat alone at the table with the radio turned on. The talking heads were saying that by Harry remaining elusive and in hiding, he was only making himself look guiltier. The hosts also brought in an attorney who said that he could use that point in court, if he needed.

Harry Potter was hiding, and probably hiding something. 

He wanted so badly to tell the truth, but it couldn't be that simple. Leucosia knew all of Harry's secrets, that was certain. She had worked long and hard to bore into his mind and find everything she needed to corner him. Not only that but she made sure that the public would fry Harry.

But hiding only made him appear guiltier.

Leaving would mean abandoning Audrey and Dana again. He hated to leave them alone and he hated being without them. What if he was convicted and he never saw them again? Dana would grow up without him and Audrey would pine for Harry as he rotted away slowly, hero of the world.

But hiding…

If he turned himself in, if he showed that he wasn't afraid of the trial, that might be better than hiding out. He could still write to Audrey and Dana…

Harry heaved a sigh and wiped his eyes. He had made his decision. He got up and went into his bedroom, where Audrey was still sleeping. He crawled on the bed and put his arm around her.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her.

She smiled but didn't open her eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't say it enough," he said. "But I do. I love you."

She opened her eyes a little then started to sit up, but he pushed her back down. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I have to turn myself in," he said, then continued before she could interrupt. "I have to or they'll think I'm guilty. I'll write you, okay? I promise I won't let them put me away and yes," he started, "I'll get around to telling them the truth. Just let me do this alone, all right? I can handle this."

Audrey's face read concern but she didn't complain. She understood him.

"Be careful," she said, a few tears in her eyes.

"I will. I'm missing you," he told her. She hugged him then gave him a long kiss.

"I love you, Harry. I'll always love you."

"Thank you," he said. He rolled out of bed then walked across the hall to Dana's room. Dana was awake and coloring in a book with a few crayons at once. "Hey," Harry said to her with a sad smile.

"Good mowning, daddy," she said in her toddler voice.

"Good morning," he returned. He sat across from her and watched her. "You know that I love you, don't you?" he asked. He choked back his emotions and fixed his eyes on hers.

"Yeah," she said.

"Good," he said. "I have to leave again, just for a little while," he said.

Dana looked up. She stopped coloring and stared right into his eyes.

"I'll be back real soon," he told her. "I have some… some adult business to attend to. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"No," she said and began to cry. She dropped her crayons and walked over to him so he could pick her up. "Don't go," she wept.

Harry hugged her and felt his own lip tremble. "I don't want to, but I have to. I'll come back soon and read you a story, okay?" he asked.

Dana stopped hugging him to rub the tears out of her eyes. 

"I'll be back soon, I promise," he said. He kissed her forehead and tickled her stomach so she smiled a little. "Be a good girl for your mother, okay?" He set her down then stood up to leave, but Dana grabbed his hand. "What is it?" he asked her gently.

Dana pulled a simple rubber band out of her pocket, kissed it, and put it on Harry's wrist. "I wuve you, daddy," she said.

Lips vibrating, Harry picked her up and hugged her tight as his tears slowly leaked out of his eyes and dripped down his face. "I promise I'll see you soon," he told her. "I promise." Harry set her down then turned away and left the room. He couldn't fight the tears as they flowed freely from his eyes, nor did he want to. He deserved this feeling for abandoning them.

"Here goes nothing," he said, then Disapparated from his home.

He reappeared in his apartment, which was desolate, cold, and void of all life. The black furniture, looking new and unused, shone in the growing sunlight, but it still managed to appear chilled. Harry was sure that the silence would damage his ears. He walked down the hall and into his bedroom, which was nearly empty. His punching bag was gone, his desk was cleared of everything, his filing cabinets were missing, even Hedwig's perch was absent.

Harry walked back down the hall and hung a right into his library. All his books were gone. Even the dust on the shelves had disappeared. But the shiny black cabinet hadn't been disturbed, which he was thankful for. He walked over to it and leaned his head on it.

Then he heard pounding, as if someone was walking. He heard voices he recognized.

"They took everything, you said?" Hermione asked.

"Just about," Marc replied.

"How are we supposed to find Harry if the Ministry has all the clues?" Ron asked.

Harry turned to face the doorway to the library and he watched the three of them walk into it. 

Hermione gasped, Marc's jaw dropped, and Ron stepped back and partially covered Hermione. All three of them stared at him as if he was a ghost.

"Harry," Hermione said breathlessly, holding her hands to her chest. 

He smiled feebly at her and was about to walk toward her when he suddenly remembered that his wedding ring was still on his left hand. He kept it on one side of the cabinet so they wouldn't see.

"Hi," he said. 

"We've been looking all over for you," Hermione said. Ron and Marc continued to stare.

"You found me," he said. He looked down at the rubber band on his wrist and fought back his tears. 

Then Marc found his voice. "You have to turn yourself in."

Harry looked up at him and nodded. "I know. That's the only reason I came back. But I won't let them lock me up again." He bit his lip and shuffled his feet. "I need an attorney."

"I know a few," Marc said to him. "I can get you in touch with them."

"Thanks," he said. The three of them still stared. Harry placed his hand on the cabinet, looked away from his friends and whispered the password. The cabinet opened slightly and Harry inserted his left hand inside and slid off his ring, then shut the cabinet door. Then he started out, but Ron took another step in font of Hermione, clearly protecting her. Harry cast his eyes downward and walked out of the room as the other three followed him.

Suddenly Harry's door burst open as six Hit Wizards barged in, wands pointed at his chest. Harry raised one hand and said, "Tranquilte," and a clear barrier was made. The Hit Wizards tried penetrating it, but couldn't.

"Lower this shield!" one of them commanded.

"No."

"You are under arrest. We have to take you back---"

"I'm not going anywhere. Get Arthur Weasley over here so I can negotiate with him." Harry watched them do nothing then he cocked up an eyebrow. "Get the Minister. Please," he added.

Then the one person Harry didn't want to see strolled in as if he owned the place.

"The antagonist returns," Columbus Blair said. "Up to your old ways, Harry?" he asked.

"I won't discuss anything with you," Harry said calmly. "I want to talk to Arthur about this."

"You had plenty of time to talk at the hearing, Harry," he said. He meandered over to Harry's shield and pressed his hand against it. "Strong magic. I hope it's not illegal."

"Get Arthur now, Blair. I need to discuss my arrangements prior to the trial."

"How about prison?" Blair said. "Need I remind you that you are charged with murder?"

"No," Harry said. "But I'm not going to prison for something I didn't do. Now please get Arthur before I lose my temper."

"What are you going to do, Potter? Beat Miss Granger into submission again? Maybe you'll kill Weasley's son just for the hell of it." He paced back and forth like a hungry tiger as he stared in Harry's eyes. "You're in a sticky position."

Harry looked away from him and concentrated on keeping the shield up. Luckily Arthur came through the door a few seconds later.

"You're back," he said.

"That's right," Harry said. "I came back for the trial. I'm not going to await it in prison, though. And I can't go back to St. Mungo's. That place was making me insane."

Blair chortled. Harry tried ignoring him.

"Harry," Arthur said in a defeated tone, "murder suspects have to be watched constantly, you know that."

"So let me stay here," Harry said. 

"That's ridiculous," Blair chimed in. "He can orchestrate his crimes from here. You cannot remain in this apartment while awaiting trial!"

Arthur turned his head to face Columbus and glared. "The last time I checked, Arthur Weasley, not Columbus Blair, was Minister of Magic." He turned his attention back to Harry and sighed. "I don't think I can do that."

"Can't you put me under house arrest?" Harry asked. "Doesn't the fact that I came back signify that I'll stick around for the trial? I'm not guilty of anything, Arthur. I'll stay for the trial."

Arthur was clearly considering it. He stared at Harry and rubbed his chin pensively. "You're a flight risk," he said, "but you did come back. You'll have to wear a tracer amulet so we know where you are at all times, and if you remove this one, we'll know about it."

"Fine," Harry said with a sigh of relief. "I'll do it."

Blair made an indignant noise that Harry desperately tried to ignore. Harry brought down the shield, but kept up his guard. One of the wizards approached Harry and gave him a ring with a red gem set in the center.

"Thank God it doesn't require a needle," he mumbled to himself as he put it on. "There. Done."

"Get an attorney, Harry," Arthur said. Then he gathered everyone around and had them leave, Blair included. Harry was left alone with Marc, Hermione, and Ron, who remained silent until Harry faced them again.

"That was a bit anticlimactic," Harry mumbled. "I expected more of a fight."

They didn't say anything.

"Hermione," he said gently, gazing fixedly into her eyes, "I am so sorry. I would never want to hurt you and it kills me knowing that I did. I'm so very sorry."

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. "That's all right," she said.

"No it isn't. I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear. I won't hurt anyone again, I promise you. And I'm also sorry for attacking you, Doctor. You're not my favorite person in the world, but I never wanted to attack you. Well, perhaps subconsciously, but I would have never done it purposefully."

Marc said nothing but nodded.

"I didn't kill anyone, I swear," Harry started. "And I did not form, start, participate in, lead, or do anything concerning the Black Order. I have nothing to do with them other than trying to stop them. I'm being framed for this so Leucosia can get me out of the way. I know you think I'm delusional, but I'm not. I saw her with my own eyes and heard her with my own ears. This isn't the first time the public hasn't believed me about an enemy, you know that. That's why she knows it will work this time. You have to believe me."

None of them said anything but looked around at each other. 

"Where were you, Harry?" Ron asked a few seconds later.

Harry swallowed. "Elysium," he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Ron furrowed his brow and looked to Hermione, but she was staring at Harry.

"You look much healthier," she said to him. "It must have been nice where you were. But I suppose that's why you title it as such. You said to me once that you would never lie to me, and I believe you. But we've spent days looking for you, Harry. I'm convinced you're a Janus." She continued to peer into his eyes.

Ron threw his arms down. "Elysium and Janus? Why can't we speak English, here? Harry, where were you?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Janus has two faces, Harry," Hermione continued. "Do you have two separate lives?"

Harry's heart began to hammer as a new thought entered his mind. If he kept his marriage secret, a good thing, would they suspect him of other secrets? Hermione was smart and quick so certainly she would pick up on stuff the others wouldn't notice. Then again she did believe him---always had.

"A separate life?" he asked her. 

"One you don't tell us about. The life you leave for," she said. "We deserve the truth, Harry."

Harry shut his eyes and nodded. 

Hermione took in a breath. "Your home. That life is your home, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said.

"And what does that include, Harry?" Ron asked. "What secrets do you keep there?" he asked. Harry didn't like his tone, but if the situation were reversed Harry expected that he would act the same way.

"I only kept it a secret because I was afraid something horrible might happen," Harry started. "You have no idea how long or how bad I've wanted to tell you. But can you blame me? The moment something good starts happening to me, it's yanked away. I can't have that happen again. You have no idea how horrible it is."

Then Hermione puffed up her chest and took in more steady breaths. "Are you married?" she asked. It sounded as if the sentence took days to ask, but before she knew it the question had been asked.

Harry swallowed hard and moved his eyes away from hers. Audrey would want Harry to tell them, to get it off his chest so at least they would believe him. He had to tell them the truth, especially now that they'd asked him point blank. But this was _his_ secret. It was _his_ life. But he couldn't lie about it. Eventually, he knew, they would find out, so what would be the point of lying? Why didn't he just let them find him with Audrey the day before?

"Yes," he told her. 

Hermione bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. Neither of them appeared very surprised, but at the same time managed to look shocked. Harry couldn't figure out how anyone could have those two emotions at the same time.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked, now appearing wounded.

"I wanted to," he said. "I wanted to so bad, Ron. You have no idea how much I want a normal life. I just can't help thinking that something horrible would happen to them if the world knew."

"Them?" Marc said. 

Harry rolled his head down.

Hermione's mouth hung open a little. "You have a baby?" she asked.

Now Ron looked like he had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Harry knew Audrey would beam once he told he had confessed. "She's three and a half," he said. "But she's not biologically mine. Her real father died three years ago. I adopted her just after I got married," he said.

"Which was when?" Hermione asked with a shaky voice.

"Coming up on a year ago," he said.

"You spent Christmas Eve with them?" Hermione continued, her voice quaking worse.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it Audrey Wyatt, Harry? Is she your… your wife?" she asked, her eyes moistening.

"Yes," he said. "She wanted to come clean, too. I think that's enough," he said, looking around at them. "I want to be left alone. I need to contact an attorney, so if you could leave me with some names, Marc, I'd really appreciate it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her," he said to Ron and Hermione. "Please don't pass the information on, though. I don't want the press to bother them. Okay?" he asked.

Ron and Marc both nodded to him and Harry was sure they would keep to their word. Hermione, on the verge of tears, also agreed to the secret. Then they left after Marc recommended a few lawyers.

Ron went back to work with a feeling he wasn't familiar with. Marc went back to his office to look over some records of a few new patients. Hermione went home, sunk down in a corner of her house, and concentrated on keeping calm. Harry sat down at his table and wrote out letters to the attorneys. He wished his life hadn't come to this. He wished more than anything that he could look up and see Dana at play and Audrey smiling at him. But he had business to attend and not much time to complete it.

For it had only just begun.


	9. Of Trials and Juries

Author's note: First, the trial is based highly on the American/British legal trials, with slight but obvious changes. I'm afraid I couldn't invent my own legal system. J Please do not review or email me saying I should've come up with something original. Writing a trial isn't easy. Secondly, over the past few weeks, people have been showing concern that I will not finish this story. I will finish this story! Trust me. If you want updates, please join my Yahoo group so you can get the updates! Lastly, the reason this chapter took so long is because I was busy with my life, and it's 50 pages long. It should keep you busy.

Chapter Nine: Of Trials and Juries

Attorneys were Harry's least favorite people. In the past few years he had managed to capture several dark wizards with varying degrees of sinister natures. He knew for a fact, having seen them commit acts of dark magic, that these wizards were definitely guilty as charged. But there was always a defense attorney who would take up the case, claim that Harry had been seeing things and was lying, and try to get the criminal off. 

He hated attorneys.

Yet attorneys were the people who were supposed to save him from a life time in prison.

Harry stared out of his window to see the smoggy London gazing back at him as he pondered his new and ironic situation. So far he had 'scanned' over three of four attorneys who Marc, his ex-psychologist, had recommended. Harry realized that he hated all of them when he recognized their faces. They had all been men who had defended the guilty and this offended Harry very deeply. He was not guilty. Why should someone who made a living defending guilty people defend an innocent man? It didn't make sense to Harry so he sent them on their way. The problem at hand was that it was now May and Harry's trial was in one month time and he still was without legal defense. Sometimes he thought he should just defend himself, but then he would remember all the other so called "screw-balls" who had defended themselves, and he scrapped the idea entirely.

No, he would have to find a worthy attorney without experience defending someone who was thoroughly guilty. The problem was there didn't seem to be any in the world. 

There really wasn't anything else to do other than consider legal representation. He was not allowed to leave his flat for anything. It had been several weeks that he'd been stuck in this confounded place with nothing to do. Ministry officials popped in every once in a while to make sure Harry was still alive and that he was still Harry. Apparently it was possible for the Switching Spell to be used. Some at the Ministry thought Harry's soul was now in the body of someone else. Preposterous, but that's what they believed.

Dobby was the only one allowed out of the flat to do any of Harry's business. This was limited, of course. He was allowed to shop for groceries. Other than that, nothing. But even though a tight security charm was placed on Harry's residence, it didn't mean that Dobby was trapped like Harry was. Dobby could disappear, reappear, and do whatever else he wanted without detection. Harry made sure Dobby never did any of this while under watch, but tipped him off that if an emergency did arise, Dobby should use the magic to seek outside aide.

Supposedly if there was an emergency, however, the three or four security guards stationed outside Harry's door would be able to assist him. If they weren't up to the challenge, the other wizards surrounding the parameter of Harry's apartment building would probably get the job done. 

Harry's only other hobby, the that didn't include looking over potential attorneys, was spying on the wizards spying on him with the use of his omnioculars. After several weeks this too became boring. 

More than anything Harry wished he could raise his eyes from the ground and find Dana playing with blocks on the floor and singing to herself. One day he awoke thinking he could smell the sweet scent of Audrey's fresh cinnamon rolls from the kitchen. But he didn't.

Harry had written to Audrey every day since he had been entrapped in his own residence, and she had responded with words of encouragement and love. She was thrilled beyond words that Harry had confessed his happy news to his friends, and was now urging Harry to come out with the secret to the Ministry and the press. She associated this secret with the main evidence against Harry and assumed the charges would be dropped if he simply revealed the truth. But he felt that she was being very naive, for he kept locked away two other secrets which he protected with his life. 

It was those two secrets which worried him more than the pending trial which he was certain he would face alone. It wasn't necessarily the secrets themselves that worried Harry, but that other people had knowledge of them. If one or both were to reach the public's eye, he was sure they would condemn him for the crimes he hadn't committed. He could only hope the people he entrusted with them would keep their lips sealed for his sake.

The only real problem was that Ron seemed to doubt Harry's sanity as each day passed.

That was another thing which bothered Harry. Sure, it would bother anyone if one of your best friends believed you to be a total lunatic. But if Ron truly believed Harry might actually be responsible for the Black Order's actions, maybe not even consciously, then Ron just might slip the truth of Harry's sixth year.

Hermione ensured Harry that Ron would never do such a thing, but Harry noticed slight doubt embedded in Hermione's faithful eyes. He didn't mention it at all around Ron or Ginny, as if hoping neither of them would remember it, but it was a ridiculous thought of his. None of them would ever forget that day, not even when they were old and senile. 

But that secret was held within the memories of four people. Harry's other secret, however, was much harder to conceal.

It was on May the fourth, Harry's first wedding anniversary with Audrey, when it happened.

Hermione decided she wanted to get away from the office for lunch to see Harry for another round of vague and meaningless conversation. She Apparated to his apartment building, checked in with the first guard, then the second. She entered the elevator and checked in with the third guard. Finally she was cleared by the two wizards who guarded Harry's door.

"Harry?" she called out, slipping off her light coat and dropping it on the back of a chair. "I came by to see you. I figured you'd be bored and perhaps would like to talk," she said, but Harry didn't answer her. "Harry?" she called. 

He wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. Hermione frowned slightly and walked down the hallway. "Harry? You have to be here," she continued, half to herself. She looked in the library, the guestroom, and the bathroom, but there was no sign of him. Up ahead, Harry's bedroom doors were slightly ajar. Hermione eased forward and pushed them open.

"Oh my goodness," she said breathlessly, her hand reaching for her opened mouth.

Harry was trembling severely on the floor at the foot of his bed, his legs pulled to his chest, and his hands yanking at his hair. Hermione ran to him and sank to her knees.

"Harry what's wrong?" she asked him. But he didn't respond. 

His eyes were screwed tight and his face was shiny with sweat and specs of blood. Apparently he had been scratching at his head. He was rocking back and forth, groaning.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, grabbing his arms trying to pull them away from his hair, which he was adamantly trying to remove. "My God, what's wrong with you?!"

"Go away," he whined to her, quaking more severely each moment. "Shhh."

"I need to know what's wrong," she told him urgently, now clutching his shoulders.

"Stop," he whimpered. "Stop them." He pulled at his hair again, causing his head to bleed. "Make them stop."

"Make what stop?" she asked. "Harry, let me help you."

"No," he groaned, now thrashing about as he clasped his head tighter.

Hermione touched his forehead, which upset him further, then drew her hand back and stood up. "You're burning up," she said. "I have to call for help."

"Shhhh," he whispered, rocking back and forth. It didn't seem to her as if he knew Hermione was even there. "Shhhh," he pleaded.

Hermione whirled around to run to the guards for help when Dobby popped into view and scampered to Harry with a flask filled with glowing bright white potion.

"Hermione Granger must leave," Dobby told her as he shook the potion vial.

"Dobby, what's wrong with him?" she asked, not taking a step. "What's happening?"

"Leave!" he commanded her.

Hermione was ready to argue back when Harry's face took on a horribly painful expression and the glass windows and doors shattered.

"Hermione Granger is in danger if she doesn't leave Harry Potter now!" Dobby cried. He turned Harry onto his back, jumped onto his chest, and gripped Harry's jaw so he could administer the potion. "Please go!" Dobby yelled, staring at her viciously. Hermione decided to heed the warning, and bolted out of the room, slamming the doors behind her.

She could still hear Harry moaning through the closed doors. She wanted to peek her head inside to see what was happening, but Dobby had been very angry, which she'd never seen before in her life. She decided it would be best to mind her own business so she walked into the living room and sat in a chair to wait.

Ten minutes went by before Dobby emerged from Harry's room and stepped into the kitchen. Hermione pushed herself out of the chair and went to him in hopes of an explanation. But when she asked him a number of relevant questions, Dobby only shook his head.

"Dobby cannot tell Hermione Granger anything," he said sadly. He placed a large cardboard box on the counter then sat himself on a stool. "Dobby has been sworn to secrecy."

But that wasn't good enough for Hermione. She slammed her hands on the counter and stomped her feet in rage. "He's my best friend, Dobby!" she yelled. "You _will_ tell me what's wrong with him!"

Dobby's large ears drooped down and he shook his head. "No, Miss. Dobby cannot."

"Damn it!" she yelled at him in frustration. "I'm sick of this! I'm tired of knowing nothing about him." She paced around the kitchen, her eyes searching for something else to harp on. Here eyes fell on the cardboard box Dobby had just placed on the counter. "What's in this box?" she said as she grabbed it from the counter. "What's in here?" she asked, pulling at the tape.

Surprisingly, Dobby didn't intervene. He passed her a very strange, almost encouraging, gaze. He stood in the kitchen and watched her tear the box open and extract its contents.

"What?" she said, pulling out an opened carton of cigarettes. "That's it?" she asked. She rummaged through the box to find more opened boxes of cigarettes. "He can't be involved in illegal activity, can he?" she asked herself. "Narcotics. Oh my," she said, putting her hand to her open mouth. "What if he's selling something illegal? Is he, Dobby? I have to take one to analyze its components," she said strangely, fumbling clumsily with the boxes. After witnessing Harry's epileptic episode, her mind didn't seem to be functioning on all the higher levels. She withdrew one cigarette and was slipping it in her pocket when a powerful hand grabbed her wrist, swung her around, and slammed her into the refrigerator. 

"What are you doing?" Harry growled, pushing down on her wrists with his hands. She could smell his cold sweat and feel it penetrating her clothes as his whole body was pressed against hers. She looked up into his bloodshot eyes, which were glinting with growing anger, and shuddered.

"You're scaring me," she said in a trembling and feeble voice. Harry's grip on her was causing an ache in both her arms. "Harry, you're hurting me," she whispered.

He looked away from her then released her and walked away. "Sorry," he mumbled with his back to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she rubbed her wrists. She was sure she'd have bruises. "What happened to you?"

Harry looked into the cardboard box and pulled out a carton. "You think I'm addicted, don't you?" he asked her. He turned around to look into her eyes then smiled to himself. "Harry's just a drug addicted wreck, huh?"

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "No, of course not."

"I know a lie when I see one," he said, dropping his sick grin and replacing it with a frown. "I must be up to something horrible, right? All of these drugs just sitting here in a box for me. You think I must be making a profit or slowly wasting myself. I can't handle life, right? Harry's had too much to deal with so he'll just waste himself like the rogue he is?"

Hermione continued to shake her head at him. "No."

Harry furrowed his brow and let his tensed shoulders drop. "Fine," he said acidly. "Keep lying to me."

Hermione made a choking sound in her throat. "I'm not lying. Why are you acting like this?" she asked desperately.

Harry walked toward her and pulled the cigarette out of her clutched hand. "Thou shalt not steal, Hermione. You wouldn't have found anything conclusive anyway. I'm doing nothing illegal."

"Okay," she said, backing away.

Dobby finally cleared his throat to speak up, but Harry rounded on him. "HOW COULD YOU LET HER SEE ME!" he bellowed at the house elf. "WHY DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG, YOU WORTHLESS VERMIN?! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID TO KEEP MY SECRETS SAFE? YOU'LL PROCTECT THE MALFOY'S BUT NOT MINE? AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU?" he screamed so loudly that his face turned puce and veins were pulsating in his temple. Dobby backed away slowly but didn't appear frightened.

"Harry, stop it!" Hermione cried.

Harry whirled around and advanced on her. "SHUT UP!" he yelled in her face. "SHUT UP, YOU SELFISH WHORE!"

Hermione raised her hand and slapped Harry across the face with all her strength. Harry staggered backwards and put his hand to the cheek she'd struck. He closed his eyes, turned away from her and sank down to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned against his cabinets with his eyes sealed shut.

Dobby came back into the kitchen and looked up at Hermione. "Harry Potter didn't mean it. Harry Potter always speaks highly of Hermione Granger."

"What's wrong?" she asked yet again to the both of them. "What did that potion do to you, Harry? Why did you need to take it? I think I deserve some answers after what just happened."

"You don't deserve anything," he said evenly though he still wasn't looking at her. "I don't have to answer to you."

"And who will you answer to?" she asked him. "Hmmm, Harry? You're on the path of losing your friends, do you know that?"

"Get out of my face," Harry snapped at her.

"Dobby," she said to the elf, who was approaching Harry cautiously. "What was that potion? Is he acting like this because of it?"

Dobby glanced at Harry then back to Hermione and nodded.

"You tell her anything," Harry growled at Dobby, "and I'll slit your throat."

"The potion is making him agitated, is that it?" she asked. Dobby nodded again and backed away from Harry, who was staring at him over the rims of his glasses.

"What else does it do?" she pressed on.

"He won't tell you that," Harry said to her, now staring her straight in the eye. "I know he won't. You can't get answers from me, Hermione, and you certainly won't get them from him. You think knowing things about me will compensate for your jealousy and envy?" He pulled one corner of his mouth up into a smirk. "Audrey knows why. She knows everything about me. I know it makes you angry."

Hermione swallowed but said nothing.

"I chose her over you," he continued with his nasty grin. "I know you went home and cried into the silence, mourning your loss of me."

Hermione broke her gaze from his and looked to Dobby. "What does the potion do?"

Harry laughed at her. "Clever Hermione at a loss for reason? What has the world come to if you can't figure me out? Why oh why is Harry acting like such a scoundrel? Gosh," he said in a higher pitched voice, mocking her by looking deep in thought, "he wasn't like this when I first met him. If he was I surely wouldn't have befriended him, supported him, or loved him as much as I did. I wonder what went wrong with poor little Harry," he whispered, stroking the sides of his face. "What happened to the endearing tragic little hero?"

Hermione stifled her painful tears. "Good question," she forced out of her throat.

"He's gone," Harry said. "He died a long time ago. I'm really not that sorry that he did," Harry went on, though it appeared that he was calming down. "He was so worried about being liked and accepted. People kicked him around like a football. No one cared about him. Screw them, that's what I say. Screw all of them. Look at what they're doing to me, Hermione. I saved them. I saved all of them from Voldemort and countless other evils, and look at what they're doing to me. They don't care that I finally found a taste of happiness, or that I'm completely innocent. They are selfish, just like you. You just want what you want, and nobody else matters."

"What has happened to you?" she asked him, no longer holding back her tears. "Why are you like this? Why are you so angry?"

"Figure it out for yourself, if you think you're so clever," he said, then swallowed hard.

Dobby walked to Harry and felt his forehead. "Harry Potter still has a fever. Hermione Granger must not take Harry Potter seriously. Rest, sir," Dobby said to Harry and insisted on getting him into bed. "The potion was too strong."

Harry threw him off but stood up and began walking to his room. Hermione remained in the kitchen and watched him walk away. 

"Stay here, Miss," Dobby said to Hermione then ran after Harry.

Hermione grabbed the cigarette Harry had taken from her and shoved it in her pocket. She wanted to go listen through Harry's bedroom door, but knew it was a terrible idea. She sat down in a stool and waited for Dobby to come trotting back into the room with an explanation.

Dobby entered the kitchen and began to prepare a meal.

"You have to tell me what that potion does," she said to him.

"Dobby must keep Harry Potter's secrets," he said.

"I understand that," she explained, "but he's my friend, Dobby. Has this ever happened before?"

Dobby set a pan down on the stove and nodded to her.

"When?"

"Not more than a year ago, Miss. Dobby got the potion, as told, and gave it to Harry Potter. The side affects were just the same then, too. Harry Potter gets very angry at anyone just after Dobby has given it to him, Miss. It is a normal reaction."

"So what he was saying to me," Hermione said slowly, "wasn't entirely true?"

"No, Miss."

Hermione expected to feel relieved, but didn't. "But some of it was true?" she asked tenderly.

"Dobby knows nothing of this. Harry Potter limits what he tells Dobby. Dobby only knows what he must to keep Harry Potter safe."

Hermione stood up and paced around the room. "Did the box of cigarettes come from the same place as the potion?" she asked as she fiddled with it in her pocket.

"Yes," he said. "Dobby cannot tell Hermione Granger where that is."

"It's not from his wife, is it?" she asked.

It seemed as if the words hung out in front of her for several days. _His wife_. Harry was married. It still didn't seem quite real to her. Maybe it was because she hadn't seen the two of them together, or Harry wearing his wedding band, or that maybe she was still in utter disbelief that he would get married at all. Maybe it was all three reasons bundled up into one. While it was still hard to grasp onto, it sure did explain everything about his strange behavior. Well, most of it. There were still quite a few things left unexplained.

Dobby tried looking confused by her question.

"Audrey," Hermione said. "I know about her. I assume you do, too. Did all of this come from her?"

Dobby shook his head then made himself busy with cooking. Hermione knew that she'd get no where with Dobby. If he was keeping Harry's secrets, then he certainly wasn't going to tell her what they were.

"Hermione Granger can come back in a few hours. Dobby expects Harry Potter to be himself by then," he said.

"Does he have an attorney yet?" she asked as she gathered her things.

"No," he said.

"Terrific," she replied sarcastically. "I won't return unless I'm invited." She brushed her hair out of her face then departed without another word. 

***

Harry rolled over on his stomach then checked the watch on his wrist. Five. It was five in the evening on May the fourth, his trial in one month's time. Harry ruffled his hair and yawned. His scalp was quite sore, which wasn't a surprise, and he had a dreadful headache. He tossed his blankets off of him and nearly fell out of bed.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he staggered out of his room, his hands massaging his throbbing head. He shuffled down his hall, shading his eyes from the sinking sun which bathed the entire flat with a painful orange glaze. Dobby was at work in the kitchen and enjoying it immensely. He was singing to himself and dancing about.

"Harry Potter is awake!" he said cheerfully to him.

"Oh, God, please not so loud," Harry said, pushing against his head as he walked into his living room and collapsed on the sofa.

"How does Harry Potter feel?" Dobby asked. He scampered over to him with a large glass of water and a bright smile.

"Kill me now," Harry groaned. "Just do it, Dobby. There's no point in going on."

Dobby walked back into the kitchen and continued working, which included banging of pots and pans.

"STOP!" Harry cried, clasping his hands over his ears. "Damn that's loud."

"Harry Potter got a package from Audrey," Dobby said.

Harry fell off the sofa, crawled along the floor until he pulled himself up, then reached for the white package on the kitchen counter. It was heavy and he was sure what it was. He ripped the card from the box, slit open the envelope, and pulled out the card.

The front had a green painted handprint on it, obviously Dana's. Harry ran his finger over it, feeling the bumps and air bubbles from the paint. When he opened it he saw Audrey's hand writing, written in a sparkly silver ink which she loved.

_My love,_

_ I know it must be difficult being separated from your family on this day--- the day we became an official family just one year ago. But know that Dana and I will always be with you, if not in physical presence, then spiritually. I think about you nearly everyday and wish I could see your smiling face. Be strong, Harry, you will get through this. I know that you are a survivor and can handle anything which is tossed in your path._

_ I feel that I should remind you to keep your temper. When it gets away from you, you tend to act harshly and rather like a teenager with raging hormones. Again, you must be strong. I know you will conquer this situation, just like the others._

_ I baked you a cake, of course. Dana and I already had a piece and I sent you the rest. Perhaps you could share with your friends? I cannot get over how happy I am that you finally revealed your secret. If only you could summon the courage to tell the Ministry. But I know what you will say._

_ I am keeping this letter pithy because I hope to see you in person soon. I love you, Harry. I will always love you, no matter what happens._

_With all the love I possess,_

_Audrey_

Harry rested the letter on the counter and opened the package. A small sliced-into chocolate cake sat before him. It was covered with gooey white frosting with script writing, "Happy Anniversary" written on the top.

"How horribly sweet," a soft and familiar voice whispered from behind him.

Harry whirled around, his heart rate increasing, sweat immediately oozing out of his pores.

Standing before him, the sunset behind her, was Leucosia. Her hands were folded, her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her shimmering robes caused Harry to squint.

"How did you get in here?" he spurted out. He couldn't see her face because of the sun. He walked around her; she turned her head like a praying mantis to watch him.

"In where?" she asked, taking a step forward. Her face was shadowed now by the wall. 

Harry didn't answer. He cast his eyes to his door and for a fleeting moment considered sprinting to it to show the guards that Leucosia was real.

"I will only remain for a short while," she said the moment the thought crossed Harry's mind. "I simply wished to have a glimpse of you."

Harry wiped sweat off his face and tried to calm his breathing. "Get the fuck out of here," he told her.

Leucosia broke into a smile. "It amuses me, the way you speak. Whenever you are confronted with me, your speech recedes in years--like a scared teenager. I am aware of how frightened you are. There is no need to conceal this fear of me."

Harry took a deep breath and tightened his fists. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You forget, Harry," she said, gracefully raising her finger to her temple. "I can be in here. I see more than you would like for me to see. Whenever I am near, you wish to curl up like a little boy and cry into the darkness. I have witnessed this from you previously. Crying, moaning, suffering in despair and loneliness."

"Shut your mouth," Harry said to her.

Leucosia laughed. "Proving my point, young Harry?"

"What do you want from me?" he asked her. "I told you I wouldn't join you."

Still smiling, Leucosia advanced on him, but this time Harry didn't back away but walked forward.

"Never assume, Harry. I thought I had made myself clear. I will offer it to you once more, but not at this time. I will wait, for patience is my strongest virtue. After the trial, after the verdict, after your loss, then, and only then, will I extend my hand."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine. "What loss?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Did you not say that murdering your friends would be ineffective? Why do I smell terror in your voice?"

"You said you wouldn't kill anyone. You said you weren't a killer," Harry insisted.

Leucosia smiled again. "How frustrating it must be," she whispered. "I can see in, but you cannot. It is not my doing, Harry. They are leaving you as I said they would. Ron is in doubt of you and Hermione is wounded by you. You are rapidly losing your friends. It is only a matter of time before your family abandons you."

Harry took another step forward and stretched out his hand toward her. She didn't back away from him but allowed him to touch her.

Harry's trembling hand hovered above her shoulder for a few seconds, then dropped right through her.

"You're not corporeal," he said in a deadened voice.

"You seem surprised," she said. "Doubting my actual existence now, are you not? The doctor placed doubt in your mind. I can see it. Maybe I am just a delusion of yours…"

"No," Harry said. "You can't fool me."

Leucosia raised one eyebrow, smiled, and drew closer to him still. "One quarter of seven three zero, then we shall see. Good luck finding a suitable attorney, Harry." She stepped backwards toward the window, not leaving a shadow on the ground, and then vanished as quickly as she came.

Dobby came back into the room from the pantry and climbed back on his stool to resume cooking and didn't even give a second look to Harry, who was rooted to the floor. He swallowed a few times and listened to his heart beat slow down to normal. Audrey's cake sat before him. Somehow seeing something so material and normal seemed surreal to him after having a conversation with a mysterious being.

He finally took a few steps toward the kitchen as he thought of his conversation with her. He couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right about her. Whether it be that she was a delusion of his, which he didn't want to consider, or that there was something more to her than met the eye.

A window in Harry's flat suddenly burst open and a strong gust of wind hit Harry's face, nearly blowing off his glasses. He ran to the window and closed it, pushing hard against it because the wind was so strong. Audrey's letter flew to the door along with some other loose papers. He scrambled over to scoop them up then stuffed them in an open drawer and slammed it shut. He clasped his head and screwed his eyes shut. He had momentarily forgotten about his headache, but now it came screaming back to him.

When he recollected his thoughts, he walked to the door to talk to the guards.

"I'm going to use my fireplace," he told them dully, rubbing his temples. "If you hear me talking that's why."

"Who are you contacting?" he asked.

"Well that's really none of your business, but Hermione Granger is who. It's within my rights, you know." Before they could respond, Harry shut the door in their faces then walked to his fireplace.

He had a kneeling pad for comfort and floo powder at the ready. When his head was in the fire he called for Hermione's address and hoped she was home. He soon saw the small house he had been stuck in for a week. There were books strewn all over, as usual, brooms were sweeping up, and a few dusters were dancing across table tops.

"Hermione?" Harry called. "Are you home?"

Hermione sauntered into the room with a long and angry frown. She had her hair pulled back, though a few strands had escaped, dirt smudges on her face, and she wore a dirty shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

"Hi," Harry said cordially with a smile.

Hermione shift her weight to one side and crossed her arms.

"I know why you're angry," Harry started, still smiling at her. "You're completely justified in this anger. For what it's worth, I'm really sorry."

Hermione cleared her throat and continued to stare at him.

"Really sorry," he continued. "I wasn't myself. What I said wasn't true at all. How can you be a whore when you're a virgin?"

Hermione shifted to the other hip and re-crossed her arms.

"Of course that's not the point," he said. "The point is--"

"What was that potion and what does it do?" Hermione asked coolly. She took a few more steps toward the fireplace then sat down and crossed her legs, swinging one. "I have a right to know everything about that potion you took, Harry," she added with a glare.

"You're right about that," Harry said as he swallowed. "Okay. I'll tell you. Wait. Let me explain the reason I need it, okay?"

"Fine," she replied.

"A few years ago I started having some problems."

"What kind?" she asked.

"Head problems. I--I started having really bad headaches and I didn't know why. I saw a few people about it and they told me it was probably genetic. They can't tell for sure because--well, you know why they can't know that. So I was told that the potion would make the headaches either go away completely, or alleviate them so I could tolerate them." He watched her shoulders relax and her leg stopped swinging.

"Go on," she said.

"Then there are the side effects. Because of what it does to the brain chemicals, or something, I become a bit agitated and short tempered."

"I noticed," she said.

"Well that's why. I've only taken that potion twice before because it was an emergency. You see the real reason I smoke is because that potion is in the cigarettes. But it's not as concentrated so it's easier for me. I don't smoke because I enjoy it, Hermione."

"You do at this point," she told him. "And I'm not buying all of this, Harry. I can understand being agitated, but you were vicious. I have never seen you so sadistic and ferocious like you were today. And I _do not_ believe that you have no control over your behavior or what foul words spill out of your mouth," she said darkly, her brows furrowed in what looked like hatred.

Harry held his breath as he looked in her face. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I'm getting tired of your worthless apologies," she replied curtly. "Would you have acted like such a monster in front of or toward your little girl?" she asked.

Harry blinked in quick succession as his mouth dropped slightly. "I'm---I'm not sure."

"Think real hard, then," she growled at him. It was the first time Harry was actually frightened by Hermione. Her face was reddening, her hands were shaking, and she was beginning to cry.

"No," he said, not looking in her eyes.

"Oh, so you _do_ have control? You can treat your friends, the only people you had for seven years, like unimportant slugs or something?" she said, her voice steadily rising. "Is that what Ron and I are, Harry? Do you _actually_ care about us?"

"Of course I do," he replied.

"You did at one time, do you still now?" she asked. "Answer me honestly, Harry. I can't take any more lies from you."

Harry's lips were quivering when he answered her. "More than you know, apparently," he said evenly. "You and Ron are the only reason I come back. You have absolutely no idea how much I hate this place! If you and Ron weren't here, I wouldn't ever return. Ever," he said with a shaky voice. "For the first time in my entire life I have people of my own. Can you comprehend that concept? Can you possibly understand how good it feels to have a home to go to after twenty-one years without one? Can you?"

Hermione lowered her head. "I suppose not," she admitted.

"I would do anything for them. You have no idea how much I love them, Hermione. It hurts to be away from them, so much sometimes I can't stand it. So I'm sorry I'm such a prick sometimes, I really am. But I've given up a lot to live the life of a Janus, as you put it. I think perhaps I deserve a break or two. And if you or Ron were ever in any kind of danger, you know I would help you. That's my hamartia, isn't it? The saving-people-thing?" he asked, then pulled his head out of the fireplace.

Dobby gave him a reproachful look as he started back for his room. 

"The door, sir," Dobby said pointing.

Harry slowly turned back around and saw that the door was glowing blue. Curious as to which friend would pay him a visit, he approached and opened it. A young man standing at an average height, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a smile stood before him.

"Hello, Harry," he said.

"Jake," Harry sighed as he smiled at one of the lead prosecutors for the Ministry. "I'm glad to see you. Please," he said, widening the entrance, "come in." Once Jake entered and Harry had closed the door, they broke out into conversation, their words piling on each other.

Harry held up his hands. "You go first," he said.

"Do you have an attorney yet?" Jake asked.

"Not exactly," Harry replied. "But I have some information which may tip my scale, but I don't want to share that with anyone but my attorney. But I'm real glad you're here, Jake. I need to find one."

"Harry, your trial is less than one month away," Jake said. "There is so much to prep, witnesses to call, evidence to analyze, experts to interview... You need representation," he pressed.

"I know that," Harry said sternly. "I wouldn't if that hearing hadn't gone so badly. Why couldn't you pull more officials to your side of the fence?" Harry asked. "You were one of the only ones who was with me."

"Beg your pardon," Jake replied in a low voice, "but you weren't exactly credible. But I came here to help you with this case, not argue. The fact is you are going on trial for high crimes, Harry. You know the facts and statistics with our wizard law. Ninety percent of wizards brought to trial are guilty. An additional five percent are involved in the guilty act but are given deals for revealing the true enemy. The remaining five are actually innocent. The odds are against you."

"But I'm not guilty," Harry insisted. "Why would I murder people?"

"I don't know," Jake said with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. "I thought it was shameless, too. But the fact remains that you are on trial and you need representation. Please tell me I'm penetrating your head."

Harry nodded. "I can't have sleazy criminal attorneys representing me," he mumbled as he turned away.

"I knew you would say that," Jake said to him with a smirk. "And I can't blame you. I was put in charge of the prosecution for this case."

Harry frowned at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Jake calmly raised his hand.

"But I declined and turned in my resignation," he said with a growing grin. "Tell me, Harry, could you perhaps find me a job?"

Harry put his hand to his chest and felt himself smiling at Jacob Verit. "You know," he said weakly, "I've never really wanted to hug another man until now. You did that?" Harry asked. "You resigned from the prosecution to defend me?"

Jake grinned again and nodded. "Don't make me regret it, Potter," he said seriously as he pointed his finger at Harry.

Harry couldn't hold it in anymore. He lunged at Jake and hugged him tighter than any person he'd ever hugged. "Thank God for you, Jake," he said. He pulled back, still grasping Jake's shoulders as if afraid he would run away and never return, and shook him happily. "I owe you for this!"

"No," Jake said, "You've done enough for all of us. This is only a small payment. So," he said, clearing his throat, "down to business."

"Yes," Harry said clapping his hands together. He signaled for Dobby to get Jake whatever he wanted, then showed Jake a seat.

At first the two discussed the normal matters of how the trial would most likely unfold. Jake was kind enough to hypothesize about how the prosecution would run the trial and what witnesses they would call. He told Harry that the witnesses would have to answer every question they were asked, which could be bad or good, but one of the attorneys could object if it was in anyway irrelevant to the case.

"Which will be hard," Jake said, "because a lot of these questions will be based on your character."

The defense would call their witnesses who would be prepped with the defense's questions before hand, but not the prosecution's. After the calling and questioning of witnesses, including Harry, both sides would give a summation of their case and the jury would convene to decide on a verdict. 

"Guilty or not guilty," Harry said to himself.

"That's right. When you're found not guilty, then you are free to go," Jake said with a smile.

"Right," Harry said as he forced a smile. "Just out of curiosity, what would happen if this false accusation went all the way through and I was found guilty? What would happen then?" he asked tentatively.

"You've testified at many trials, Harry, you know what happens. If you're found guilty, the judge decides your sentence. I know that the prosecution is planning on a life sentence in Vincula Solitarum if they get their verdict. But don't worry about that," Jake insisted. "I'll get you out of this mess."

Harry took in a fast breath and raised his head. "Vincula?" he asked breathlessly. "They want to send me there?"

Jake nodded. 

Vincula Soitarum was the maximum security prison somewhere in the Arctic Ocean. Its exact location was unknown for a valid reason. In order to Apparate, one must know their current location and destination point. But Vincula was uncharted and rumored to even move about the globe. Prisoners in Vincula were the darkest of wizards, ones who couldn't be contained by simple charms and security spells. At Vincula there was no prisoner to prisoner contact. In the glory days of Azkaban the prisoners would go insane because the dementors would circulate their worst memories over and over. But in Vincula prisoners went insane from hearing nothing but overwhelming silence until death or release. They were not allowed outside contact with anyone including family and friends.

"I can't go there," Harry said, shaking his head. "I can't."

"And you won't," Jake reassured. "But the prosecution is building a strong case against you, at least from what I've seen. You'll need to entrust me with everything so I can get you out of this mess."

"What kind of case can they build against me? They don't have any evidence, only coincidences, right?" Harry asked.

"Well," Jake started, "yes and no. They have the recordings of your sessions with Doctor Marc Simon and the notes he submitted. We have them too. We always are aware of all the evidence they have. There is also the time you've spent away which you refused to comment on at the hearing, and then a troublesome number of eerie coincidences."

"They always have to tell us what evidence they have?" Harry asked as he sighed a bit. "No surprises?"

Jake bit his lower lip and squinted. "Right. However, there are often surprises. Say you reveal new information while you're on the stand and the prosecution jumps at it. They can bring in a surprise witness should they feel it necessary. They also don't have to tell us what questions they're going to ask, what theories they're banking on, and so forth. It won't be surprise free. Sorry," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"So now that you're my attorney, I can tell you anything and you can't tell anyone else, right?" he asked.

"That's correct."

"Good," Harry said as he folded his hands. "Great. Because I have some relevant information about my "extended leave," shall we say."

Jake's face lit up and he beamed. "Terrific, Harry. What is it?"

Harry shut his eyes and took in a deep breath, then released the air slowly and opened his eyes again to see Jake's anticipating face. "I've been seeing a woman who as of one year ago today has been my wife," he said.

Jake's mouth dropped open slightly. "You're married?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

Harry nodded.

"So when you were gone you were with her the entire time?"

"Mostly. I did work as well. I don't want people thinking I was vacationing on company time. Anyway," he said as he passed his nervous hand through his hair, "Audrey thinks that the moment I release that information I'll get off the hook. Is she right?" he asked.

Jake bit his lip again. "It will certainly help you," he admitted. "But you still have the trial. We can introduce her and put her on the stand toward the beginning of the trial, but you should have said that at the hearing."

"I wanted to keep her safe," Harry said instantly.

"I thought as much," Jake said. "The prosecution still has a case, though. They're not completely relying on your frequent and long absences. There's still the issue of Leucosia, or the Siren, as they're referring to her. They don't think she's real." He played with his lips again as he watched Harry.

Harry knew exactly what he was thinking just by staring into Jake's face and eyes. Jake was doubtful as well. He wasn't convinced Harry was off his rocker, but open to the idea of a little paranoia and delusion. Harry didn't know if he should continue protesting that Leucosia was real, or if he should play along.

"And what do you think?" Harry asked him.

"I'll think whatever you want me to think," Jake said.

"Don't talk like an attorney. Answer me straight. Do you think I've created her as a delusion of mine and she's complete bunk, or do you believe me when I say she's setting me up?" he asked calmly. He wouldn't tell anyone that he'd seen her just a few minutes before.

"I believe you, of course," Jake said, but Harry was sure he didn't. Jake took his eyes away from Harry's at the last moment and started to write on a clipboard. 

Harry hated clipboards. Every person who had one was of a certain breed of human being. The over analytical kind. The kind who never believed anyone other than themselves and wouldn't listen to you. The kind who couldn't say what was bothering them, but would etch it on a page with a scratchy quill that left ink blots or lines that were too thin.

"Of course," Harry said to himself gazing at his naked ring finger.

**

After one knock, Hermione's door opened steadily as Vanessa eased her head inside. Hermione glanced at her, nodded, then resumed her previous activity of thrashing a brand new punching bag, which hung from her ceiling and was also tied to the floor with magic chains. Vanessa entered tenderly, taking soft steps toward her while her lips remained sealed. For a moment she simply watched as Hermione beat the bag with ferocity. The house, even the windows, she noted, was sparkling clean.

"What is it?" Hermione finally asked.

Vanessa shrugged. "I just wanted to come and see you," she said.

"Don't you have a job?" Hermione snapped.

"No," Vanessa said. "Jobs are highly overrated. And I see you're not working today."

"My boss sent me home," she said as she socked the bag again. "I started yelling at everyone, so he told me to take the day off."

"And why were you yelling at everyone?" she asked.

Hermione ceased her attack and dropped her arms. "I have a lot on my mind, is all," Hermione said. She peeled the protective tape from her wrists and pulled a few strands of her hair behind her ears. "Harry used to have one of these to punch when he had too many thoughts for his head. It's a good idea." Then she walked over to a long, hovering conveyer-belt and stepped on it and began running in place.

"Oh," Vanessa said with a smile, "you got one of those. I hear they're very nice. Why the sudden exercise regime?" she asked. 

"I need to get in shape," Hermione answered simply. "I keep seeing all these perfect women with perfect bodies with tiny waists and I thought," she panted, "that there's no excuse that I am not that fit. I mean, the only time you can really have an excuse for that is if you've had babies, and I haven't." She increased her pace on the hovering treadmill. "I mean look at you," she pressed on, staring at Vanessa's figure. "You have the perfect body. So should I. I'm young and without pregnancy." Hermione's face began to redden but not from her workout. "You know how men are," she continued. "They're so preoccupied with outwardly appearance and small waists and huge breasts. They don't care if you're smart, or if you listen to them," she said as her eyes moistened, "or that you're always there for them when they need you, or that you believe them or are always taking their side. They only care about breasts, firm butts, pretty faces, and a ton of sex." A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

"You're in pretty good shape if you can talk that easily while you're sprinting," Vanessa said. "Hermione, not all men are like that," she said.

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Oh yes they are," she insisted. "They all are. I know them. There isn't an available man out there who cares what I have to say, only my cup size!"

Vanessa took a few steps toward her and grabbed her hand. "I think we need to have a discussion," she said. "Get off the treadmill, missy. Come on," Vanessa said as she pulled Hermione off with ease.

"No," Hermione said, trying and failing to free her hand from Vanessa's tight grip.

"Oh yes," Vanessa continued. "It's intervention time. Come and sit on the sofa with me," she continued as she pulled Hermione and sat down.

"This isn't good for my health, sitting here as I sweat without having cooled down properly," Hermione mumbled.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Vanessa said shortly as she turned Hermione around to face her. She took a deep breath. "Now I happen to be rather smart, like you, and that intellect incorporates emotions of the heart. I know this recent hatred of men derives from Harry and something he said and did. How am I doing so far?" she asked.

Hermione looked away and crossed her arms.

"I'll take that as a yes," Vanessa said and continued. "From our past encounters I know that you feel more than simple friendship for Harry, and when I say simple I mean you actually love him. Not brotherly love, not friend love, but 'I want to marry him and bear children with him' kind of love. This will always be complicated with any man, but Harry seems to be a different breed in that his psyche isn't like other men, or people for that matter. He tends to be rash, quick thinking, has serious temper issues, and a tendency toward violence. But everyone has some issue or two, let us remember that," she said. 

"Vanessa why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"I was talking to Ron," she said, folding her hands delicately on her knees. "I asked how Harry was and Ron was mechanical with his answers. I then asked about Audrey Wyatt, because I had the feeling there was more there than met the eye. It seemed very suspicious. Ron avoided my eyes and left the room. So I changed the subject and he still avoided my eyes. Knowing that I had done nothing wrong to him or said anything offensive, I knew something was up with Harry and Audrey. If anyone would give me more of an idea about this, you would. When I came into the house and saw you slaying the innocent punching bag and running on the treadmill as if an axe murderer was behind you, I knew I was right."

Hermione leaned back on her sofa and sighed, then turned her eye to Vanessa, who appeared eager for some answers, but also concerned for Hermione.

"It's complicated," Hermione said in a low mumble.

"Oh," Vanessa said with a feeble smile. "It's complicated because Harry told you not to breathe a word to anyone?"

Hermione nodded slightly.

"So he loves her?" she asked softly.

Lips trembling, Hermione nodded again.

Vanessa shook some hair out of her face and sighed. "He married her, didn't he?"

Hermione tightened her grip on her own arms and bit her trembling lip as tears welled up in her shiny eyes. She swallowed hard and kept a fixed stare at the fireplace across the room.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa said to her. "I can tell you really love him."

Hermione suddenly jumped up and threw her hands in the air. "Shouldn't that make me happy?" she demanded as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. "Shouldn't I be happy for him? I thought people who loved always wanted what made their love happy. Isn't that how it's supposed to be? Shouldn't I be feeling relieved and glad that Harry finally has a home and a family?"

"A family?" Vanessa asked with wide eyes. "Oh my. Harry has a baby?"

"All I can think about is me. Me, me, me! Why am I not happy for him? Why!" she cried. She collapsed on the ground and pulled at her hair. "Why am I being so selfish?" she sobbed. 

Vanessa got down on her knees in front of Hermione and hugged her. "You're not," she said. "You're crying because you lost him. You're not being selfish at all. This is real. What you're feeling is a real emotion, not one for a fairytale in a storybook." 

Hermione clung onto Vanessa and cried into her shoulder for several minutes. The only sounds were sniffles and a few choking sounds often associated with heavy weeping. Finally Hermione pulled back and sat on the back of her legs, wiping her red face and rubbing her bloodshot and puffy eyes. Vanessa crossed her legs and just sat with her.

"When I was fifteen," Hermione started in a hoarse voice, "I had a very strange and sudden thought. It was a thought that hung with me for years and I couldn't shake it off. I knew, I just knew, that one day I would marry Ron or Harry," she said as tears steadily dripped out of her eyes. "I didn't know which, but I knew it would be one of them. Because I loved them both so much," she said as she sobbed again, covering her mouth with her hands. 

Vanessa went to hug Hermione again.

"I'm sorry I took Ron," Vanessa said in her ear.

Hermione pulled back again and shook her head. "No, don't be," she said as she calmed down again. "I can't have both," she smiled. 

"Well, he is a good guy, isn't he?" she said. "I know how much they both mean to you. And I'm really sorry."

Hermione looked down at her hands and sniffed. "She's gorgeous," Hermione said suddenly. "She's tall, beautiful, great figure, nice rack, pretty smile, and all the rest. God, I never thought I'd say any of that about someone Harry was seeing. The women I met before had some flaw. She was perfect, Vanessa. She looked like a lingerie supermodel or something and what was worse was that she seemed really nice."

"Bitch," Vanessa said dully.

Hermione looked up and stared at Vanessa's serious face, and smiled.

"I will hate this woman for you, Hermione. She's obviously evil," she said with a wry smile. "To the core."

Hermione smiled and bit her lip. "No," Hermione said. "She must really love him to put up with his temper and all his other foibles. I'm just being selfish about it," she said as she wiped the tears from her face.

"You're not," Vanessa insisted. "Harry has one of those personalities you're attracted to because you want to fix him and love him. It's natural."

"I want to fix him?" she said to herself. 

"I think he's a bit damaged in the head, Hermione. The way he treats you and Ron, his friends, is horrible."

"He's had such a hard life. And he always treated me better," she mumbled. "I noticed it. I remember the day he broke up with that Piper woman. He came to me. But," she sighed, "he didn't say anything other than he broke up with her. Still, you can't expect men to talk about their emotions. I bet he told Audrey about it," she said as her eyes welled up again. "I bet he told her about everything he never told me. And he's slept with her."

"Chances of that are high," Vanessa said. "We shouldn't talk about this."

"Not that he was a virgin before," Hermione went on. "For a long time I couldn't imagine Harry as a sexual being. Then one day Ron and I went to see him while he was at training, and that Piper woman literally popped over to his room and started hanging on him and talking to him like they were intimate. I know they slept together. Then it was clear to me. Eighteen and no longer a virgin."

"No one taught him sexual moral values," Vanessa said. "You've got to give him a pass. Anyway, I really think a change of subject would be great. Tell me more about Ron."

Hermione sighed and wiped her eyes. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"Have you ever kissed him?" she asked suddenly.

Hermione's eyes bulged out of her head. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Vanessa beamed and chuckled. "You heard me," she laughed. "Have you kissed him?"

"That's a little personal," Hermione replied.

"Personal?" Vanessa asked with raised eyebrows. "You just finished telling me about Harry's sex life and would have continued had I not stopped you. So tell me, Granger, did you smooch Ron?" she asked.

Hermione put her hand to her chest but couldn't help smiling. "I haven't known you long enough to talk about that," she said.

"See above statement," Vanessa pressed on. "Harry's sex life. You must have kissed Ron otherwise you would've just denied it. So when did you? You can tell me." She scooted closer to Hermione and folded her hands in her lap.

"Where would you get such an idea?" Hermione asked. 

"Ron mentioned something about kissing you," she answered flatly.

"Get out!" Hermione yelled. "We promised we wouldn't tell anyone!"

Vanessa clapped her hands together and giggled hysterically. "I knew it! I knew you kissed him! What year? It was fifth, wasn't it? Oh come on and tell me already!"

"Fifth year? What makes you think it was fifth year?"

"Chances are you were upset when Cho kissed Harry so you kissed Ron to get even. It was brief," Vanessa continued as Hermione's mouth hung open in shock, "and there wasn't much fluid exchanged or lip smacking, but still a kiss. A small, innocent yet significant action and expression of affection."

Hermione shook her head, not in denial, but in awe. "Ron didn't say a thing, did he? You concocted this all by yourself."

Vanessa nodded proudly. "Of course. And I know more. You wished it was Harry you were kissing, not Ron."

"No. Harry was quite the geek back then. He doesn't look that way now, but he was a straight up geek," she said as she wagged her finger at Vanessa.

"Sure," Vanessa said disbelievingly. "A cute geek with heart-melting green eyes who has since eaten all his vegetables and grown into quite the specimen of a young man. Tall, strong, brooding, and a damn handsome face. And don't tell me you hated his hair."

Hermione sighed a little as she smiled. "And it all belongs to her. She made him happy," she said, going back into her previous mood. "She made him so happy he chose her. After years of trying for his happiness, I failed. And here I am, bitter because my best friend, who's been wrought with misery most of his life, has found happiness and I'm upset because he chose her over me," she said crying again. "And I'm a rational person. I am. Never in my life did I think I would talk like this and treat Harry as if he were some prize to be won."

Vanessa sighed this time. "I'm sorry I brought it up again."

Hermione stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "I think you should go," she muttered. "I'm going to bed."

Vanessa stood up and nodded, seeming to understand what Hermione needed. "If you want to talk, you know where to reach me," Vanessa said gently.

"Thanks," she replied. Vanessa turned and left and Hermione headed for her bedroom. She took a very quick shower then collapsed into her bed with damp hair. She tossed and turned for several minutes, then slowly fell into sleep….

She was walking barefoot on dark, shiny floor. She was wearing a white flowing nightgown which swayed all around her. Up ahead she heard someone crying---a man. A man was sobbing into the night and she was going to him. Hermione rounded a sharp corner and saw Harry hunched over on a sofa, his head buried in his hands, weeping profusely. Hermione reached out for him, but before she could touch his head, Harry stood up and stared wildly at her. His face was red and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

"You broke me," he said to her in a shaking voice.

"I had to," Hermione responded firmly.

"Playing the hero," Harry said with gritted teeth. He looked down at his chest and put his hand to his heart. Instantly he began to bleed from the spot, soaking his white shirt in dark red blood. "You broke me," he said again.

This time Hermione stepped back and looked down into her left hand. It was dripping in blood, but Hermione wasn't surprised to see it. She opened her fist and saw a ring, pooled in blood, in the crook of her palm. 

"You broke me!" Harry yelled and lunged at her.

Hermione woke so fast her head was dizzy. She sat up and saw daylight streaming into her bedroom, as she heard her heavy breathing brake the calm silence of morning.

**********

June 4, 2004

**********

Harry stood in front of his bedroom mirror and pondered the way he was dressed. Jake advised told Harry to wear something expensive yet boring. It was best that Harry look good, but didn't attract too much attention. He wore dark gray slacks, a matching gray long-sleeved shirt, and an expensive black cloak, which pulled over his shoulders and attached on his chest just below the bottom of his neck with a clip shaped like a lion's head. His glass cross hung around his neck but was barely visible, and his Auror ring rested on his right ring finger, where it belonged.

The arraingment and pretrial had been last week. Harry had plead "not guilty" and was told to remain in his flat, which was old news. But the whole ordeal made the pending trial real.

Harry walked away from his mirror and out into the living room where he would await Jake and his armed guard.

"Harry Potter is handsome today!" Dobby yelled from the kitchen.

Harry made a nonverbal "Hmm," and nodded his head as he stared at the door.

Then Jake came through the door looking like a lawyer. "Ready?" he asked.

"This is wrong," Harry said grimly.

"I know," Jake replied. "Today is the first of a long few days. Then it'll all be over and you can stay with your family."

"Right," Harry replied. He took a deep breath and cocked his head from side to side, then walked through his open door into the hallway. Six wizards, all dressed in the same gray robes, awaited him.

The trial was being held at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was escorted to the hidden entrance via the phone booth. The golden light illuminated Harry's boots as the lift lowered to the Atrium floor. When the golden light bathed his face, Harry was able to make out dozens of moving shapes on the wooden floor. The lift doors clattered open and a few of Harry's guard pushed through the eager and obnoxious crowd of the press.

"Harry Potter!" they all screamed, pushing their way toward him. "How do you feel about these charges?" one asked.

"Is it true that you killed the Minister of Magic?" asked another.

"How long have you been having these delusions?"

"How long has Hermione Granger been your secret mistress?"

Harry shook his head and kept his mouth sealed shut as he was led through the crowd to the main lifts. Once inside it lowered and the mass of reporters with their flashing cameras and loud voices disappeared.

"I've always hated them," he said to Jake and the guards, who nodded in agreement.

Harry's stomach did a number of flips as the lift lowered. When the woman's cool voice announced that they had arrived at the Department of Mysteries, the lift doors clanged open.

The corridor was vast and silent. A few torches lit the walls and silhouetted the tall outlines of people standing in the hallway. Harry was suddenly aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the loss of saliva in his mouth. He wished Audrey was with him.

He was led to courtroom seven, which as it turned out, was the largest of the courtrooms. It was also not as dank and foreboding as the other courtrooms he had the pleasure of experiencing. This courtroom was simply squared with rows of seats flanking the middle isle. It seemed as if hundreds of witches and wizards occupied these seats, but Harry couldn't recognize any of them at the moment. All of them were completely silent; not uttering even a hush or a breath. He looked up at the ceiling as he walked to the defendant's table, noting the cracks and crevices which accompanied years of wear. As his head dropped, he noted the jury box, which seemed to sit unusually high above everything else. There were twenty witches and wizards sitting there. Gray haired men to very young women were seated in the jury box, all of whom had their eyes glued to Harry.

Jake pulled out Harry's chair then sat down in his own.

Harry's legs were tingling. He sat down on the cold wooden chair, which was equipped with thick chains, then looked sideways to his attorney, who appeared calm.

"Why aren't the chains working?" he asked dryly.

"Because about a dozen highly trained wizards, including Aurors, have their wands pointed at your heart, and will for the duration of the trial," Jake said quietly.

"That eases my mind," Harry said as he turned in his chair to gaze at some of the silent faces behind him. He saw a few red heads three rows back. But his eyes couldn't focus enough to make out their faces. In row two sat Hermione. She had flattened her hair and was biting her lip when she noticed Harry was looking at her. He attempted a smile at her, which she thankfully exchanged. And to his heart's content, Audrey sat in the first row with a supportive smile and a wink of her eye. Even in his nervous state, he managed a grin for her.

"All rise," a tall wizard said from the front corner of the room.

Harry stood up but kept his eye on Audrey, who mouthed, "I love you," to him. Harry turned to face the front and saw three people enter from a door behind the judge's panel. The first was Arthur Weasley, the second was a man Harry had met before, William Giles, and lastly was an elderly woman with her hair pulled back into a loose bun, whom Harry had not seen before. Each was dressed in dark robes with an emblem on the breast. The courtroom sat down as they did.

Everyone was silent as they watched the three presiding judges. Giles, who was an elected and registered judge, would do most of the talking and presiding. In the back of Harry's mind were the trials Harry had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve, which were nothing like his own. For that he was thankful.

"There will be no talking," Giles began suddenly, "except the witnesses, the counselors, and ourselves. Anyone who is found chatting amongst themselves will be tossed out of this trial," he said. He removed his glasses and cleaned them, as he looked down on his court. "Now then," he said, replacing his glasses, "we would very much like to hear the defense's summary of their position." He leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips forward.

Jake glanced sideways at Harry, raised himself out of his chair with ease, and walked to the jury box. "Ladies and Gentleman of the jury," he began, as all attorneys did, "if there is one thing you can remember about my client, Harry Potter, it can only reflect heroism." He paused for dramatic effect then paced in front of the box as he stared up at them. "And he was not a hero just once, but many times. Harry Potter is not a murderer, a conspirer, or a leader of any dark faction, but a real life hero who has saved humanity time and again. Try to remember, if you can, how terrified you were when He-who-must-not-be-named lashed out against us in his first reign of terror, and how thankful and thrilled you were when a hero, Harry Potter, emerged. In 1992, He-who-must-not-be-named threatened us again by nearly capturing the Philosopher's stone, but again my client risked his life for ours. But more recently, Harry Potter defeated He-who-must-not-be-named once and for all so we would never have to experience such horror again." He glanced at Harry, smiled, then looked back to the jury.

"Yet here you sit. You should be asking yourselves why. The prosecution will try to tell you that my client formed and is leading a terrifying group who call themselves the Black Order. How he can do that while managing to risk his life for you and I is beyond me," he said with a smile. "The prosecution doesn't have a shred of evidence placing Harry at scenes of crimes, or that he had anything to do with the murders. In fact, the prosecution doesn't know where Harry was in the time of question." He stopped again and took a few steps back as he raised his finger. "But I do, and you will find out shortly, that Harry was not delving into works of evil, but fulfilling a missed happiness which most of us take for granted.

"As a matter of fact, the prosecution has so little evidence against Harry that I resigned from my job as lead prosecutor so I could defend Harry against these totally ridiculous accusations. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am asking nothing more from you than your ears. The prosecution has nothing." He nodded to them and walked casually back to his seat beside Harry. He took a deep yet quiet breath and nodded to Harry.

Across the main isle on Harry's right was the prosecution's table. Three people sat there: a tall man with auburn hair with the last name of Auferre, a middle-aged woman with an unusually small nose, and a very young woman with vibrant red hair, rosy cheeks, and bright pink lips. Auferre stood up, sauntered toward the general direction of the jury box with seeming confidence, and began.

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury," he began in a deep voice, "welcome to the present." He gave them a half smirk, folded his hands behind his back, and nodded to each of the twenty jury members. "No one will deny, at least not in this courtroom, that Harry Potter was a great hero. God knows how much he sacrificed, how much pain he endured, and how brave he must have been to achieve such greatness. We are all familiar with our own history and we know how powerful and how magnificent Harry Potter is. But what don't we know?" he asked. "What exactly is our young hero hiding from us? Over the course of the next few days you will hear testimonials from Harry's recent past and even present. They will not deny that Harry possesses superior magical prowess, intelligence, or a set of charming green eyes," he said with a smirk to a few of the ladies. "That is not why we are here. The reason we are here is because our young hero couldn't answer simple questions regarding the Black Order, which he says he's been investigating. The reason we are here has nothing to do with Harry's distant past or what man he used to be. We are here because of who Harry has grown into, and what he has become. The defense painted you a great portrait of a charming hero. The only thing missing from their description was a bright halo atop Harry Potter's head. But you will hear testimonials from people who can tell you that Harry Potter is angry, bitter, and possesses a deep hatred and jealousy for people like you and me."

Harry looked in the corner of his eye at Jake, who showed no signs of distress.

"No one is perfect," the man continued. "We all have our foibles. But Harry's character flaw has manifested not only in hatred, but into an actual delusion that wants our demise. Because let's face reality, no one can go through Harry's life and come out all together normal. But that does not excuse murder. Believe me," he went on, "Harry has more secrets up his sleeve than I have suits. And they are not lustful feelings or strange fantasies, but dangerous tools he can use against anyone." He locked eyes with each member of the jury. "Thank you." He walked back to his seat and relaxed.

Harry felt his face flush pink, but tried not to show distress. Jake had told him to control his emotions the best way he knew how.

"Counselor Verit," Judge Giles began, "you may call your first witness." 

Jake stood up. "Thank you. The defense would like to call Albus Dumbledore to the stand."

From a row behind Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore, looking better and more wiser than ever, walked to the front to sit in the witness's chair. He folded his hands on his lap, gave a smile to Jake, and winked at Harry.

"For the record," Jake began as he walked to him, "could you state your full name and occupation to the court."

Dumbledore nodded and cleared his throat. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Thank you," Jake said as he walked toward Dumbledore. "Headmaster, how long have you known the defendant, Harry Potter?"

Dumbledore raised his fingers to his lips in thought. "I met him when he was only a few weeks old. But I suppose the court would like to know when I began knowing him as a person? Well I believe I really got to know Harry in December of 1991, which would make over twelve years."

"You witnessed Harry growing up, didn't you?" Jake asked.

"Indeed I did," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

"In that time, did Harry ever strike you as a bad person?"

"Objection," the prosecution stated. "We're here in the present, not how the defendant was in the past."

"I was merely trying to establish my client by asking people he knew about his character," Jake explained. "This whole case is based on who Harry is and what type of person he really is, as Counselor Auferre can attest," Jake said.

The female judge nodded to Jake. "We understand that, but please move it along to more relevant information."

"Yes, ma'am." Jake said.

"No," Dumbledore answered. "I won't deny Harry broke rules, but many students do. Whenever the rules were broken it was because Harry was doing what was best."

"Could you elaborate on that?" Jake asked.

"In Harry's first year he broke the school rules to acquire the Philosopher's stone before Voldemort; in his second year he rescued Ginny Weasley from death; in his third year he helped a wronged man escape; in his fifth year he established a secret defense against the dark arts group and tried rescuing his godfather from harm. Do I need to continue?" he asked.

"No," Jake said with a smile as he glanced at the jury. "Would you describe Harry as a hero?"

"I always have," Dumbledore answered.

"On the twenty-fourth of December, Harry attended a ball of sorts at Hogwarts, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"When the cloaked men took hostage everyone present, what did Harry do?"

"Harry stepped forward before they could harm a young girl. He prevented the murder of a young boy and his family, as well as one of the Weasley twins. Then Harry engaged the men in combat before he was taken down."

"'Taken down' meaning they stabbed him in the heart?" Jake asked as he walked to his table. He picked up a plastic bag which held the recovered Dagger of Ithaca.

"That is correct," Dumbledore stated simply.

"So a cloaked man drew this dagger out of his pocket and plunged it into Harry's chest?" Jake asked as he showed the dagger to the jury.

"Yes."

"After Harry recovered three days later, what was one of the first things he wanted to do?" Jake asked.

"He wanted to find those responsible and exact justice," Dumbledore said.

Jake nodded. "Thank you." He walked back to sit next to Harry as the prosecution began their questions.

Counselor Auferre stood and walked to Dumbledore next. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you said Mr. Potter would break the rules?"

"Yes."

"How frequently?"

"Not as frequently as his father did as I recall," he said with a smile. A few people in the courtroom chuckled. "Harry's main problem was standing up for himself and his friends."

"I see. Was Mr. Potter a frequent liar?"  
"Objection," Jake said as he shot out of his chair, "I thought the prosecution was only concerned with the present time. What does Harry's past statements mean to this case?"

"Your honors," the Counselor said, "I'm simply trying to establish Harry's character." He flashed a smile to Jake.

"Yes, but please get a move on," Judge Giles responded. "Answer the question, Headmaster."

"No Harry was not," Dumbledore immediately said.

"No?" he asked. "Mr. Potter didn't look you in the eye on numerous occasions and lie to you?"

Dumbledore hesitated for a while, in which time Auferre grinned. "Headmaster, what did you personally teach Mr. Potter to do?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify," Dumbledore said politely.

"Magic. You took personal time to train Mr. Potter in his sixth and seventh years at your school so he could defeat He-who-must-not-be-named, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"What did you teach him that wasn't offered in the regular classes at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I taught him Occulmency so he could protect his mind from Voldemort's attempts to penetrate his mind. I helped him unlock his abilities which lay dormant by teaching him to control his emotions and use them in a battle. And I instructed him in several advanced magical studies and charms."

"How good was he?"

"He defeated Lord Voldemort single-handedly. Many considered Voldemort to be the most powerful wizard of our time."

"And because Harry Potter defeated him, he now takes that position, don't you think?" he asked.

"On many levels, yes he does," Dumbledore responded.

"Just one more question Headmaster. On Christmas Eve of the past year, didn't Harry tell you something was awry?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat to answer. "He told me to get everyone out of the Great Hall. Minutes later we were taken hostage."

"Interesting," Auferre stated. "He knew they were coming. I have no more questions." He walked back to his table and sat down as Dumbledore took his leave.

Harry tried to keep his breathing calm and not look panicked. He wrote on a notepad and then slid it over to Jake. The note read: I hope this trial goes better than that. Jake gave him a reassuring smile and stood up. "The Defense now calls Remus Lupin to the stand."

"Your Honors," Auferre said as he shot out of his chair, "the prosecution understands that the defense will call many of the defendant's past professors to attest to his character. The prosecution will concede that Harry Potter was a good student aside for a few broken rules, as long as they acknowledge that we are dealing with the present time, not the good old school days."

Giles looked to Jake. "How say you, Counselor?" he asked.

Jake nodded. "The defense will stipulate. Because of the changes I would like to call a recess and reconvene this afternoon to prepare my next witness."

"Prosecution has no problem with that," Auferre said.

"Very well," Judge Giles said. "Court will reconvene this afternoon at one. Let me remind the jurors that you are not to discuss this case amongst yourselves. Court is dismissed." 

After everyone rose as the three judges left, Harry grabbed Jake. "Please tell me you have something up your sleeve."

"Yes. Hermione and Ron will testify next. They'll go over the events in December and more recently what happened weeks ago. I'm going to have Audrey testify last as a surprise witness to take the prosecution off guard. A lot is hinging on what she has to say."

"She'll make sure we win?"

"She'll help. Harry I should tell you that the prosecution will have a lot to say, more than I do. But we have the truth on our side, they just have coincidences."

"I know that. When do I take the stand?" Harry asked.

"Right after Audrey. It'll distract the prosecution."

"Good," Harry said. "And how many days do you think this will last? My heart is racing over here."

"Not very long. You could've stopped this whole thing had you just said the truth in the hearing. There isn't much evidence for either side, Harry. Two or three days tops for this case."

"Good," Harry said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "I can't take much of this. So what do we do now?" he asked.

"I have to prep Ron, Hermione, and Audrey, then you. For now you can go home. I'll come pick you up when we reconvene."

"Wait," Harry said as the courtroom was nearly empty, "will you have enough time to prep me?"

"Yes," Jake answered. "I've already prepped the other three, it's just overview. Besides," he said as he drew out some parchment, "I already have your questions ready for you. Just go over them and I'll help you phrase the answers."

"Great," Harry said nervously as he grabbed the parchment and stuffed it in his pocket. He walked with the guards out of the courtroom and was eventually led to his empty apartment. It was possibly the shortest day of his life, or so it seemed. He couldn't help the dread of testifying. The old saying was that innocent men had nothing to hide. But Harry figured that everyone had at least one thing they wished to keep secret from the public. The prosecuting attorney, Auferre, had a point. Most people's secrets involved dirty fantasies or numerous affairs or thoughts and simple yet painful secrets which would only result in embarrassment. Everyone had those kinds of secrets.

As he sat in his chair and stared out one of his many windows, he pondered. He couldn't stand to think of what would happen if they jury found him guilty. Jake kept reassuring him that it wouldn't happen, but reflecting on Dumbledore's testimony, Harry wasn't as confident. Leucosia had done a thorough job of smearing Harry's good name to the public. She was also quite secure in thinking a guilty conviction would travel Harry's way. Everything else she had said came true, why not this?

He looked over his questions and came up with quick answers to them. He mumbled them to himself as he stared out of his window. It was a beautiful day today. Blue skies. He went over the questions several times until he had memorized their order. Then he tossed the parchment away and sat silently, with only the sound of his ticking wrist watch in the room.

Jake came by later on to run through the questions with Harry. It didn't take long and Harry felt it went quite smoothly. His heart was temporarily put to ease by his readiness and Jake's confidence. When Harry asked why Jake was grinning, he told him that Audrey was going to bring down the court with her convincing testimony. Jake assured Harry once more that he'd be found innocent and could go about his life in a few days. Harry gave a sigh of relief then made his journey back to the courtroom.

It was as if they had never left. Everyone was back in their seats, the jury had straight faces and occasionally cast Harry a few glances, and the judges sat up high with looks of concentration. Jake was asked to call the next witness.

"The defense would like to call Miss Hermione Granger to the stand."

Hermione stood up and walked gracefully to the stand. She was wearing professional robes, her hair was shiny and flat, and all and all she looked beautiful. A few of the men in the jury smiled as she took her seat and crossed her legs.

"For the record," Jake said, "please state your full name and occupation."

"Hermione Anne Granger," she stated clearly, "editor of Sparks Publishing and president of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." She tossed a few strands of hair out of her face and smiled to Jake.

"How long, Miss Granger, have you known the defendant, Harry Potter?"

"Almost thirteen years now," she said.

"Very good. So you know Harry well, would you agree?"

Hermione took in a breath, "I know Harry's personality quite well, yes," she said.

Jake asked her a few questions about the events on Christmas Eve, and she answered similarly to Dumbledore, only with much more detail. Then she took a breath for the next questions. 

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, Miss Granger," Jake said. "Could you describe the events of March 21, 2004?"

Hermione nodded. She gave a very detailed account of the confrontation Harry and Percy had had. She then said that Harry had stormed off into the woods to cool down for a while. In that time, Ginny arrived but ran upstairs and Percy also went into the house to talk with her. Hermione had stayed in the yard to wait for Harry to return so they could continue with the luncheon they had all planned. Ron had also remained with her. Fred and George had been up to monkey business but were also outside.

"And when did Harry finally return?" Jake asked.

"Harry came back twenty minutes later," she said.

"Could you describe his appearance?" she asked.

"Well his clothes were sticking to him a bit, which was unusual. His face was straight and plain, as if he wasn't feeling angry or any emotion, really. When he came closer to Ron and me, I could see that his eyes were glazed over a bit, as if he was deep in thought."

"And what happened next?" Jake asked gently.

Hermione took a deep breath and folded and unfolded her hands. "I asked him how he was feeling and he started to yell at me."

"Were his eyes still glazed over like before?"

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"What did he say?" Jake asked.

"Well it didn't make much sense to me. He yelled that he wouldn't give in and that I wouldn't win."

"And what did Harry do next?" Jake asked tenderly.

"He started to hit me," Hermione said bravely, keeping her upper lip steady. "I was knocked out pretty quickly."

"When you woke up and Ron told you what happened afterwards, what was your reaction?"

Auferre shot out of his chair. "Objection. Miss Granger wasn't an actual witness to the words Harry Potter said. It's heresy, your honors."

Jake sighed. "Ron Weasley told Hermione what happened. She knows Ron just as well as Harry so she can have an opinion. She was there, your honors."

Giles pursed his lips. "Rephrase your question, counselor."

Jake thought a while. "What did you think about what Ron had to say about Harry's behavior?" he asked.

"Ron told me what Harry had said. Apparently Harry had left and seen Leucosia, who's the leader of the Black Order."

"And do you think Harry is telling the truth?" Jake asked.

"Absolutely," Hermione said firmly. "Harry would never hit me, not ever. He thought he was striking Leucosia, not me. She had him under a spell. That's why Harry's clothes were wet, you see. He had been in water. There's no other explanation for it."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. The prosecution will ask you some questions now." Jake smiled at her and sat back down in his chair next to Harry.

Auferre stood up but didn't move to Hermione at first. "You said Harry's clothes were sticking to him, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"It was a warm day and Harry was angry. Couldn't he have just worked himself up?" he asked.

"I suppose," Hermione said. "But it wasn't _that_ warm. It was cool, but not warm enough to break out into a sweat."

Auferre flipped through a few of his pages. "Did you see Harry walk into… Ithaca?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. 

"But you saw Harry come back when he said he was in Ithaca, correct?"

"Yes, but--"

"And then he hit you?"

"Yes," she said.

"Were you scared of Harry?" he asked as he walked forward.

Hermione didn't answer.

Giles cleared his throat. "Answer the question, Miss Granger."

"In that moment, yes I was," she said. She flipped a few more hair strands out of her face and continued to stare at her questioner. 

"You said you were knocked out pretty quickly, is that right?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"He must be very powerful to have done that."

"Objection," Jake said. "Is there a question anywhere in that statement?"

"Sustained," Judge Giles said with the nod of his head.

"Have you ever been in that much physical pain before, Miss Granger?" Auferre asked.

Hermione swallowed and cast her eyes around the room. "It was a different kind of pain, I would have to say. It was more shocking I guess."

"Were you physically sore afterwards?" he pressed on.

Hermione shut her eyes. "Yes," she said in a shaky voice.

Harry also closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You may step down."

Hermione wasn't as composed as she had been before. She stepped down and walked back to her seat and took several cleansing breaths.

Then Ron was called forward. He stated his name and occupation just as Dumbledore and Hermione had, then was asked to tell his version of events on Christmas Eve, which were exactly the same as Hermione's and Dumbledore's. He was then asked to recall the events of March 21, 2004, just as Hermione had done, only his story continued after Hermione had been knocked unconscious.

"And what did you and your brothers do then?" Jake asked.

"Fred, George, and I pulled Harry away from Hermione. He looked confused, to be frank. I know now he didn't mean to hit her, but he did hit her and it made me angry. Then I started to hit Harry for what he'd done to Hermione. All the while he was telling me about Leucosia, the leader of the Black Order. He said he'd seen her and been inside Ithaca."

"Now you met someone a while back who told you about this dagger, is that correct?" Jake asked as he lifted the dagger again to show Ron.

"Yes," Ron said, blushing slightly.

"Please tell me about her."

"Harry and I went to investigate the meaning of the knife at the library. We met a woman there, Vanessa Deverauex. She said that the message on the knife was just a word scramble meaning, 'show me Ithaca.' She said the Grecian designs signified where the knife probably came from."

"So that's why Harry refers to it as the Dagger of Ithaca?"

"Yeah," Ron said with a nod.

"Did you believe Harry when he said he went to Ithaca and saw Leucosia?" Jake asked.

Ron sighed. "I'm honestly not sure. But he says he was there…" 

"So you need more convincing, is that it?" Jake asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "I want to believe him. I haven't had much of a chance to talk with him since that whole ordeal."

"That's understandable. Thank you." Jake walked back to his seat. Auferre moved into position.

"Mr. Weasley, could you tell me how Mr. Potter treated the former Minister of Magic, Harvey Wilson?" he asked.

Ron expressed a crooked smile. "Harry treated Wilson like the most of us thought of him--like he was a joke." 

A quiet laughter echoed through the courtroom and even Auferre smiled a bit. "So he didn't take Wilson seriously?"

"None of us did. So no, Harry didn't."

"Did Mr. Potter ever tell you why he would be gone for months at a time, or where he was?"

Ron quickly looked at Jake and Harry, then back to Auferre. "He told me he was working on the Black Order, but he didn't tell me where."

"You would send owls to him, but they were forwarded to his office?" Jake continued.

"Yeah."

"Didn't you find that strange?" he asked.

"Yes and no. I mean if Harry wanted to keep his location secret, then having a mess of owls dropping letters on him would give him away. On the other hand I was surprised he didn't tell me because we've been friends for so long."

"So you had no idea where Mr. Potter was?"

"Right," Ron said with a confident nod of his head. "No bloody clue."

"And you accompanied Mr. Potter to Azkaban after the prisoners broke out, correct?"

"Yes," Ron said.

"Were you with him when he questioned Draco Malfoy?"

"No."

"I see. How quickly did he work out the scene of the crime? By that I mean how fast did Harry figure out what must have happened?"

Ron made a funny face. "We got there and he started walking around and examining the scene, then he started piecing it together. Harry's good at that, you know."

"And when Columbus Blair and his fellow investigators for Internal Affairs came to talk to Harry about Wilson's murder, did Harry act at all suspicious?"

"No," Ron said dully. "Harry didn't murder Wilson. I mean, Harry thought Wilson was an idiot, but he wouldn't kill Wilson."

"Do you know if Harry's ever killed someone before?" Auferre asked.

"Objection," Jake said from his seat.

"Overruled," Arthur Weasley said. "I would like to hear this."

Ron seemed unaffected by the question. "Harry killed You-know-who," he said in a manner that was clear he thought Auferre was a so called 'nutter.'

"But to your knowledge, did Harry kill anyone else? Please keep in mind that you are testifying and are expected to tell the entire truth."

Ron looked as though he was thinking, but he shot a quick look at Harry. Harry was staring directly into his eyes with his hands folded before his mouth. Then Ron looked at Hermione, who shook her head so slightly, he thought he might have imagined it.

"Answer the question Mr. Weasley," Giles said.

"No," Ron said. 

Auferre looked taken aback. "He hasn't murdered anyone before Voldemort?" he asked.

"No," Ron repeated firmly. 

"You're sure?" Auferre repeated.

Jake stood up. "The question has been asked and answered, your honors. Counselor Auferre cannot waste the court's time by repeating himself."

Auferre backed down. He paced the courtroom as he pondered his next question. Ron, in the meanwhile, put on a face of sheer boredom, which brought a few smiles to the jury.

"I have no further questions," Auferre said, then took his seat. Ron sighed and walked back to his seat, winking at Harry as he passed the defendant's table. Harry felt a certain gratitude toward Ron. How could he have thought Ron would betray him? He made a personal note to himself to do something really nice for Ron when this was all over. Harry examined his watch. Surprisingly, a lot of time had passed since the recess. He wondered whether or not there would be time for him to testify.

"The defense would like to call Mrs. Audrey Wyatt to the stand," Jake said with a subtle smirk. Harry could hear a soft murmur echo through the courtroom. Audrey stood gracefully from the front row and walked with an uneasy composure to the front. She also winked at Harry as she passed, but didn't give him too much attention. Her short hair floated as she moved to the stand. Her long robes made her look much taller but didn't detract from her beauty. She sat down in her chair and took a few deep breaths.

Jake, still smiling, walked to her. "Please state your full name and occupation for the record."

"Audrey Michelle Taylor- Potter," she said softly as a huge gust of suspicious and mysterious murmurs and mumbles swept the courtroom. "And I'm a stay-at-home mother."

Jake was now grinning from ear to ear as he turned to see how shocked the prosecution was. "And could you please tell the court what your relationship is to the defendant, Harry Potter?"

Even the three judges were mystified by this news.

"Harry's my husband," Audrey said with a soft smile.

Finally Giles called for order in the court and silenced everyone once more.

"How long have you been married to him?" Jake asked.

"One year and one month today," she said.

"And how many years have you known Harry?" Jake continued.

"Oh," Audrey said as she tried to think, "I met him in 2001 at his Initiation into the Aurors. Three years about," she said with a nod.

Harry looked over at the prosecution, who were scrambling. They were searching through papers, passing notes back and forth, and whispering frantically amongst themselves. The red headed witch looked over at Harry, who gave a friendly wave and smile.

"And how exactly did you and Harry see each other?" Jake asked her.

"In secret," she said. "Harry was afraid that if anyone found out about me, I was in danger. He's paranoid about losing people he loves, which is understandable if you look at his past," Audrey said.

"Yes it is," Jake said with a smile to the jury this time. "So Harry would go and see you and stay with you in secret for blocks of time?"

"Yeah he did," Audrey smiled at Harry. "At first he would just stay for a few days, but then it turned into weeks and eventually months. I wanted him to tell his friends at least, so I could meet them, but he insisted on secrecy. I know it became harder on him to leave because he loved it with us."

"Us?" Jake asked.

"I have a daughter, Dana, from my past marriage with Aiden, who died years ago. Harry adopted her the same day we were married. Dana's enamored with Harry, as he is with her. I told Harry his constant absences from his friends and from his office would make people suspicious, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be with us."

"Would you say that you know Harry better than anyone, Mrs. Potter?" Jake asked.

"Most definitely," Audrey said with a grin.

"Is Harry leader or involved in any way with the Black Order?" Jake asked.

"No. When Harry was gone he was with me, not this Black Order people keep talking about. He would spend a lot of the day looking over information about them, but he rarely left the house."

"So he was still working on the Black Order, trying to figure them out?"  
"Yes. He couldn't tell me what exactly he knew about them, because that's classified, but he was working. Harry deserves a break. He's been fighting evil all his life."

Jake smiled at the panicked prosecution, then panned his view to the jury and beamed at them. "That he has. Do you think Harry's keeping anything from you?" he asked her.

Audrey smiled to herself. "I know he isn't," she said.

"Thank you for your testimony." Jake turned to Auferre. "Your witness," he said kindly to him. He went and sat back down next to Harry, who grinned at him. "That went well," Jake said to Harry, "don't you think?"

Harry felt like laughing.

Finally Auferre got his act together and approached Audrey. "Um, Mrs. Potter, how was your marriage to the defendant kept secret for so long?" he asked.

"The man who married us and kept the records owed Harry his life. Harry asked for the records to remain secret and so they did." 

"Uh huh," Auferre said as he flipped through his parchment of questions. "Uh, you said that Harry would leave your presence occasionally when he was staying with you, is that correct?"

"Yes," Audrey answered simply.

"Where would he go?" Auferre asked.

"Well," Audrey said, "different places. Sometimes he'd go to his flat in London to get a book, sometimes to the library, or his office, the store… just around really. Occasionally he'd take Dana to the park or out for an ice cream."

Auferre mumbled to himself as he scanned over his questions. "And Harry never told his friends about you?"

"Not until very recently, no."

Auferre raised his head. "How recently?"

"Months ago. He had to tell them after disappearing briefly. He was with me then and they demanded an explanation."

Auferre smiled. "So Ron Weasley was lying when he said he didn't know where Harry was?" he asked.

"No he wasn't," Audrey said before Jake could object. "You asked Ron if he had an idea, at the time, where Harry was. You asked it in such a way that it was past tense. Looking back, Ron knows now, but you didn't ask it correctly," she said politely. There were a few approving murmurs in the court.

Auferre looked taken aback at her. "Do you think Harry is telling the truth when he talks about Leucosia?" he asked slowly.

"Harry doesn't lie to me, Counselor," she responded, again politely. "I know he's telling the truth. And he certainly isn't delusional, as you want to paint him. When Harry said Voldemort had returned, as he had personally witnessed, the public condemned him and accused him of craziness, just like you're doing now. From what he's told me about Leucosia, she's not an enemy to be reckoned with. I, for one, believe him."

Auferre lowered his head a little to look at his questions. "Thank you, Mrs. Potter."

Audrey smiled to herself and left the stand to sit back down in the front row just behind Harry. He turned around and beamed at her. Harry looked at his watch again; it was approaching evening.

"The defense would like to call Harry Potter to the stand," Jake said. Harry stood up; his knees were trembling, and walked to the stand, fully conscious that everyone had their eyes glued to him. He sat down in the chair which creaked a little and took a few cleansing breaths. _It would all be over soon_.

Harry watched Jake approach him and ask to state his name and occupation.

"Harry James Potter, Auror for the Ministry of Magic," he said quickly. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again.

"Harry, the prosecution's largest grievance against you is that you were gone for weeks and months at a time over the last three years and you wouldn't tell them where you were, do you agree?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yeah I do," he said. He looked over at the jury and saw how focused they were on him. 

"But you were with Audrey during those times?"

"Yes I was," Harry said.

Jake smiled and looked very confident.

"Could you tell the jury what exactly happened on December the 24th of last year?"

Harry and Jake had gone over this twice during their rehearsal. "I had spent most of the day with Audrey and Dana, but had been invited to the Christmas Eve Dinner at Hogwarts. Both Ron and Hermione were going, and I wanted to make sure they saw me there so they wouldn't get suspicious. For all they knew I was alone again. Then I showed up and started talking with my friends until I found the event dull. I was rude to them then left for a while to get some fresh air. When I went back inside to apologize and say my goodbyes, about eight men in black robes came into the Great Hall of Hogwarts by way of air. And I don't mean they Apparated. No one can Apparate inside Hogwarts. These mean just came out of the air, and I know it sounds strange, but that's what happened. Then they took everyone hostage, round them into a group, and requested that I come forward."

Harry took a breath and continued. He told them every detail he could remember about Malfoy's words, the expression of Guy Burgess, and the battle that ensued between him and the other members of the Black Order. He was specific when he told the court of the spell Malfoy had placed on the hostages and how he could change their memories. "Which is why they don't remember, even to this day, what really happened."

"And did you know or ever find out what the spell was or how it worked?"

"I looked, but I never could find it, no," Harry said.

"What happened next?" Jake asked.

Harry sighed and explained in detail the rest of the story. The jury reacted most, as he expected, to the stabbing. Harry told them what Malfoy said to him, ("I came for the heart of the lion!") stabbed him in the heart, which felt cold, then kissed his cheek and left him to die. Harry didn't tell the jury about his encounter with his dead godfather, nor had he told Jake about it. 

After a moment of dramatic pause, Jake nodded. "Harry," he said in a changing the subject kind of way, "could you tell the court what you thought of Minister Wilson?"

Harry made a crooked smile. "Ron pretty much summed it up for me. I thought he was an incompetent idiot," he said. "I will say though, that before he was murdered, he was finally growing a spine. I'll give him that."

Jake nodded again. "Did you kill the Minister?"

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Did you have anyone kill the Minister?"

"No," Harry said.

"All right, Harry," Jake said, signaling another subject change, "tell me about March 21st and Leucosia."

Harry quickly relayed the thoughts into his brain and organized them accordingly. The first part of his story gave a brief synopsis of the strange dreams he had had with the silver lion. Jake had advised him to just touch on the subject, but not go into great detail about it. Then Harry mulled over what Hermione and Ron had said about the beginning of the day in question. He told the jury about Percy's words; then how he walked into the woods and saw his dream being played out. He described in painful detail about Ithaca, the sphinx's clue, and Leucosia. He told them everything she had said to him, how she had said it, what she did (like twirling her finger in the pond) and about her silvery appearance. He concluded with his attack on Leucosia, which turned about to be Hermione. The jury looked stunned once he'd finished.

"And Leucosia continued to haunt your mind even when you were in St. Mungo's, correct?" Jake asked.

"Yes. She even threatened to do something to my family."

"Leucosia can make you believe that she's someone else?"

"It seems that way," Harry said. "She made me think she was Hermione and Doctor Simon."

"Just a few more questions, Harry," Jake said. Harry was glad. "Are you the leader of the Black Order."

"No, and under better circumstances I would laugh at that accusation," he said. The people on Harry's side of the court smiled and laughed amongst themselves.

"Are you in any way involved with the Black Order?" Jake asked.

"Only in trying to stop them," Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry," Jake said. He sat back down.

Auferre stood up. "Your honors, I would like to reconvene tomorrow at eleven to question Mr. Potter."

Arthur Weasley nodded and looked to Jake. "Counselor Verit, would that be all right with you?" he asked.

Jake stood up, thought about it, and nodded. "Yes," he said.

Giles looked down at Harry. "You may leave, Mr. Potter, but you will be questioned by the prosecution tomorrow."

Frowning slightly, Harry got up and went back to his table with Jake. "What's going on?" he asked Jake under his breath.

"We're winning," Jake said. "The prosecution will want to revamp their questions for you to account for Audrey's testimony. They need more time so we'll give it to them. We've got nothing to hide."

Harry looked over and saw all three prosecuting attorney's whispering frantically.

Once the three presiding judges rose and left, the court broke out into conversation. Harry whirled around to see Audrey, who was beaming at him.

"I told you that would go well," she said.

"You did great," Harry said to her. "I think I have to go back to my place, but I'm pretty sure you can come with me," he said with a smile. He watched her brown eyes crinkle into a grin.

"I'll swing by the house, pack, pick up the little one, and I'll be right over," she said. "And I expect to see my ring on your finger," she added as she grabbed his cloak and pulled him to her. "Now kiss me and be on your way," she commanded him.

From the second row Hermione watched Harry smile happily as he kissed his wife. He shut his eyes and softly kissed her in an intimate yet proper way. When he pulled back his face broke out into a grin and it looked as if he laughed a little. She couldn't see Audrey's face, just the back of her head. Even her short hair was perfect. Hermione broke her eyes away from them and gathered her coat and handbag. 

"Were you nervous?" Ron asked her suddenly.

She looked up and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I hardly slept at all last night I was so nervous about today," she answered. "Were you?" she asked. Somehow this small talk with her other best friend calmed her down.

"Vanessa told me my face was green," Ron said with half a laugh. "I'm just glad it's over with."

Hermione smiled to herself as she walked down the isle toward the main doors. "I haven't told you that I like her, have I?" she asked Ron.

"I thought you didn't," Ron said. He walked beside her out into the hall of the Department of Mysteries. He turned to face her.

"She's a great girl, Ron," Hermione said. "I know I was skeptical about her before, but I really like her. She's got a good personality and a great heart. She's good for you." She gave him another small smile.

Ron looked at her for awhile then grinned back at her. "Thanks, Hermy," he said.

"It's my pleasure, Ronnikins," she said. She couldn't help but hug him and kiss him as she pulled back. "I love you, you know," she said.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Aw," he said. "I love you too, Hermy." He put his arm around her shoulders then started to walk her out of the Department of Mysteries. She wound one arm around his waste and let him guide her. "But I still don't think Broadmoor deserves you," he added awkwardly.

Despite her strange feelings, Hermione let out a laugh. "Neither do I," she said. "He's about as thrilling as aluminum siding. No more Quidditch players for me."

"Thank goodness," he said with a sigh. "So who now?" he asked her.

Hermione took a deep breath as she entered the golden lift with Ron. It rose steadily to the atrium. "I'm not sure," she said. "Things are so different with Harry being married and all. I don't need someone right away. I can just be with me right now."

"Yeah you can," Ron said. "And you're a great person to be around, Hermione."

"Now you're just kissing up to me," Hermione laughed.

**

A much more relaxed and happier Harry Potter and Jacob Verit returned to Harry's penthouse apartment that evening. They kept talking about the shocked faces of the prosecution attorneys when Audrey testified. Harry gave a few belly laughs which felt great and Jake echoed him.

When Harry opened his door he was surprised to see many of his friends already there. They applauded Harry as he entered. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were among the Weasleys who were present. Fred and George were wearing matching suits and grins and yelled the loudest. Dumbledore was also in attendance, along with Remus Lupin, who looked happier than he ever had; Nymphandora Tonks, who was holding Remus's hand; Rourke Everett, Harry's classmate from Auror Training, with Vanessa Deverauex standing by Hermione were the other guests. He smiled when he saw them all in his support.

"It's a bit early to celebrate, isn't it?" Harry asked them. But not even Jake would loosen his smile. No one else wanted to hear of it, either. Dobby was filtering through the crowd serving drinks, and a few people went to Harry to shake his hand. Of all the guests, Lupin seemed to be the happiest. He shuffled over to Harry with a beaming grin and shook him about the shoulders as he told him how happy he was for Harry.

"She's beautiful, Harry," Remus said, almost laughing. "I'm so happy for you."

Harry couldn't help smiling back at him. "Thanks, Professor."

"I can't wait to meet her," Remus continued.

"She should be here shortly," Harry said. And no sooner had the words left his mouth that the door opened and Audrey came inside with Dana on her hip. Dana was taking in the crowd then her eyes landed on Harry.

Her entire face lit up in a beaming smile as she scrambled down to run to her father.

"Daddy!" she screamed as she sprinted to him. Harry bent down and scooped her up into his arms and kissed her cheeks. He hugged her tightly then looked down on her smiling face. 

"I missed you," he said to her.

"I missed you too daddy," she replied in her small voice he couldn't get enough of. He kissed her three more times but didn't release her.

"Harry," Audrey said quietly, as the entire room had gone silent. 

He looked up at her then around the room.

"Oh," he said. He gazed at his friends, but they were staring intently at both Audrey and Dana. "Everyone," he said a bit awkwardly, "this is Audrey," he said looking over.

"I know that it's everyone," Audrey said with a smile to him. "Maybe individual introductions would be best, sweetheart." She started first toward Lupin, who was the closest and had Harry follow her.

Everyone seemed thrilled to meet Audrey, Dana more so. They shook Audrey's hand then had to shake Dana's, who thrust her hand out toward them with a very loud, "Hi!"

Finally they came to Vanessa and Hermione. Vanessa gave Audrey a polite smile and a "pleased to meet you," then cooed over Dana.

"And we've already met," Audrey said to Hermione as she extended her hand. "I'm sorry I lied to you before. Harry didn't want me to say. You know how he is."

Hermione took her hand. "Yeah I do. It's nice to meet you properly," she said.

"Harry's told me all about you and Ron. I'm so glad I'm finally meeting you both in person. And I'm sorry Mr. Stubborn wouldn't tell you about me. I've insisted for years that he should," she continued in her quiet voice.

Hermione sighed as she looked at Audrey. "That's all right," she said. Then she turned her attention to Dana.

"Hi!" Dana said, stretching out her hand to her.

"And this is Dana," Harry said as he smiled at his little girl.

"Hi there, Dana," Hermione said, taking Dana's tiny hand.

"This is Hermione," Harry said to her.

Dana frowned in concentration and moved her lips funnily. "Hewrminee," she said slowly.

Harry laughed as he looked at her then at Hermione.

"Close enough," Hermione said. But then Dana's attention turned to Dobby. She clambered out of Harry's arms and ran at the house elf. Then Audrey turned to Harry.

"I'm going to put my stuff in the bedroom," she said. "Is it down there?" she asked, pointing down the hallway.

"Yeah," he said, "through the double doors. How much stuff did you bring?"

"Not a lot," she said with a rueful smile. She kissed his lips, turned to Hermione and said again how nice it was to meet her, then walked down the hall with a few of her bags. Harry watched until she disappeared from view then turned back to Vanessa and Hermione.

"She seems nice," Vanessa said first. "But Dana's my favorite."

Harry chuckled. "You owe me 150 galleons," he said straight out.

"Do not," Vanessa contended. "You paid me for my knowledge and you used that knowledge. I don't owe you one knut."

"What you did was extortion. Besides, if it hadn't been for me you would've never met Ron," he argued.

Hermione watched them argue, but didn't hear them. 

"You don't know that," Vanessa snapped back. "It's a very small world, you know. And it's not extortion, it's capitalism. Besides," she said with a smile, "I've already spent it. And I wouldn't give it back to you even if I had gold coming out my ears."

Hermione set down her drinking glass. "Harry," she said, "could I use the loo?" she asked.

Vanessa turned her attention to Hermione.

"Of course," Harry told her. But he scanned her eyes as if searching for the real reason she was going suddenly.

"Great." She slung her bag strap higher on her shoulder then marched toward the lavatory. She pushed open the door, closed it behind her, and examined her reflection in the mirror.

Vanessa sighed. "I'm not paying you back," she said again. "Do you have another loo?"

"You will pay me back, and yes I do. But Audrey's in my room so you'll have to wait for Hermione to finish in the main one." He raised his eyebrows at her then went to talk to some of his other friends. 

Vanessa took the opportunity to briskly walk to the lavatory and knock on the door.

"I'm using it," Hermione said from the other side of the door.

"It's me, Vanessa," she whispered. She waited a few seconds, then the door opened and Vanessa skirted inside. Hermione had already begun crying and was now blowing her nose.

"She's not that pretty," Vanessa said instantly. "I think you're prettier than she is. And she doesn't strike me as a genius, so you're smarter even."

Hermione walked to a corner of the small room and sunk down to the floor. She dabbed at her eyes with her tissue and sniffled loudly. Vanessa took a seat beside her and flung her arm around Hermione's shoulders.

Then the bathroom door opened again and Ginny Weasley came inside.

"Hi," she said gingerly. She walked over to sit on Hermione's other side and took her hand. "It'll be okay," she said soothingly.

Hermione frowned. "I'm being so selfish," she cried.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "What's so wrong with mourning your loss?" she asked.

"Because I should be happy that he's happy," she sobbed, dabbing her eyes again.

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Hermione, you will be eventually. But right now it's okay to be sad about it. You love him."

Hermione sniffed loudly again and got herself composed. "Why?" she suddenly asked.

Both Ginny and Vanessa were taken aback by the question. Hermione went on.

"Why do I love him?" she asked. "He's wrought with problems. He's an emotional train wreck, for crying out loud. Why do I love him?" she asked her two friends.

Ginny and Vanessa exchanged expressions. "Because Harry has moments when he's such a gentleman. He's brave, courageous, he has a great sense of humor when he's not angry, and apparently he's a good father, which is the biggest turn on for women," Ginny explained. "Hermione, in a few weeks you'll be fine. You'll be happy for Harry like you want to be. But right now it's okay to be sad that he's with someone else. It was obvious that you loved him so much."

"She's right you know," Vanessa said to her. "You'll be okay. You'll go on and meet someone who'll be your knight in shining armor. And he won't be an emotional train wreck. Trust me on this. I'm the product of what happened to you."

Hermione frowned again and looked in her eyes. "What?"

Vanessa smiled. "Ron didn't tell you? My mum was engaged to Sirius Black. I don't think I need to cover what happened there. She's happily married to my father now and had three babies. You'll be fine Hermione."

Hermione wiped her eyes slowly then looked to Vanessa and Ginny. "Thanks for the support," she said to them.

Ginny smiled and hugged her.

"Aw, group hug," Vanessa said as she joined them.

**

Jake was the last to leave the early celebration party. He told Harry that he'd be back the following morning for the continuation of the trial. Then Harry was alone in his home with Audrey, Dana, and Dobby, Dana's new best friend. Dobby was the same height as Dana, so he proved to be a good playmate for her.

But it was late now. The rooms were illuminated with glowing candles which Audrey had lit. In her opinion Harry's flat needed a woman's touch, and she was quick to lay her fingers on it. He admitted it needed it--perhaps not the pink doily on the bed stand, but everything else was great. Audrey had fixed up the guest room to suit Dana's needs. She was asleep in a second after the long day, her thumb in her mouth. Audrey and Harry made sure she was tucked in securely and couldn't get out. Then Harry locked all the windows and balcony doors so Dana couldn't go outside even if she did get out of her bed.

Harry walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth and prepare for bed. He felt a great relief even though the trial hadn't reached its worst. The prosecution would have their turn tomorrow, but somehow having his family with him was an immense comfort. When he was rinsing his toothbrush to replace it in the cabinet, he looked up and saw Audrey behind him in the mirror's reflection. She smiled at him.

She was wearing a pink camisole and baggy pink pajama pants. She wore a heart-shaped silver locket around her neck, with two pictures inside it: one of Harry, the other of Dana.

Harry put his toothbrush away but continued to stare at her in the mirror. She laughed then walked to him and wrapped her arms around his chest. 

"There," she said to his reflection. 

Harry smiled back at her and covered her hands with his. 

"This is how it should be," she said. "The whole world knows about us now. No one's tried to kill us," she added, "and your trial is going smoothly. Your wife and daughter are with you and love you very much. You have your health, all your friends, and a clean conscience. How does it feel?" she asked him.

Harry let out a sigh. "Strange," he said.

Audrey rested her chin on his shoulder. "Happiness will take some getting used to." She moved her arms and wound them around his waist. "Have I ever told you that I think you're the most handsome man in the world?"

Harry laughed. "No. You probably didn't it want it going to my head."

"That's probably it. Well you are. We make a very cute couple, to be quite honest."

Harry couldn't stare at her reflection any longer. He turned around to face her and grabbed onto her waist and pulled her close to him. Audrey made a giggle sound in her throat but didn't let it escape her lips. "Feeling romantic?" she asked him.

"I'm warming up," he said in a low, raspy voice.

She grabbed his neck and pulled herself toward him for a long kiss. Then she drew back suddenly and walked backwards toward the bed, beckoning him with one finger. Harry followed at a distance.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked her.

She laughed and climbed on the bed, exaggerating her movements for him. "I missed you," she said as she looked back at him. She lay down and smoothed out the spot beside her. "Come and be a good boy," she said, patting a spot beside her.

It was too much for Harry. He burst out laughing at her.

"What's so funny?" she asked, though she was also laughing. She jumped off the bed and walked over to Harry, who was laughing so hard he was crying. "I can't believe you're laughing when we're trying to be intimate."

"You're trying so hard," he managed through his fit.

Audrey placed her hands on her hips.

"Now you're trying to be serious, and that's not working either," he told her. "I still have a lot on my mind."

"I know," she said. She took his hands and pulled him toward the bed. "Free your mind, Harry. You're going to win this case, I just know it. Now come on over here," she said, feeling the bed on the back of her legs. She ran her hands up and down his bare chest and locked eyes with him. She slid her hands around his back and leaned against him then kissed his cheeks and down his jaw line. She could feel him relax instantly. Then suddenly the candles in the room extinguished as he picked her up and laid her on the bed.

**

It took the blinding sunlight to jar Harry from his peaceful sleep. When he saw an orangey brown color through his eyelids and felt the need to squint, he realized it was late morning. He turned over in his bed to open his eyes so he could readjust to the change in light. It appeared to be another beautiful day. His dark walls were bright from the blazing sunlight that pierced his bedroom windows. Audrey was still sound asleep beside him. He laid a hand on her hair and pulled himself toward her to plant a kiss on her cheek.

He rolled over and took his glasses from his bed stand to put them on. He sat up and stretched, then ran his hands through his hair and sighed. There was a soft noise coming from the living room area. He looked around the room for some pants, summoned them to him, and put them on to go see what the noise was. He opened and shut his doors quietly so Audrey could keep sleeping and traipsed down the hallway.

It turned out that Dobby and Dana were playing. Dana, still in her one-piece pink pajamas, was dancing around with Dobby, who was bouncing on the furniture. Harry was sure Audrey would condemn furniture jumping, but she was still asleep. Harry walked into his kitchen to make some coffee and check the time on a wall clock. It was eight.

Dana ran into the kitchen and rammed Harry's legs.

"Whoa," he said to her with a grin.

She giggled and clung onto his leg, sitting on his foot. Harry smiled to himself as he poured coffee into two cups, then picked them up, and began his journey to his room. Dana continued to giggle with each step Harry took. After a few steps she would say "boom!" when Harry's foot would fall.

Harry opened his doors with his mind and walked in with Dana's rhythmic, "boom!" every other step. Harry saw Audrey peek her eyes open and grin.

"Good morning," she said. Dana released Harry's leg and ran onto the bed and started to jump. "What does mummy say about jumping on the furniture, young lady?" Audrey yawned.

Dana stopped jumping and snuggled with her mother.

"Coffee," Harry said as he handed her a cup.

"Bless you," she replied. "Are you nervous?" she asked.

"Do I look nervous?" he asked. He sat down on the bed with his coffee and drank down half of it at once.

"Honestly, yeah," she said.

"Hmmm," Harry mumbled. "Yesterday was supposed to be easy. Today the other side gets to poke around. The side I always side with."

"It's a human system," Audrey said. "Human systems always have flaws because no one's perfect. Besides," she said with another yawn, "what could possibly go wrong?"

**

At eleven that morning the court had reconvened. Arthur Weasley sat on one side of the judge panel, William Giles in the middle, and Olga McClelan (Harry learned her name moments before) sat on the other side. The jury appeared rested, as did everyone else. Jake had his notepad ready for questions he'd think to ask, and Harry sat with his hands folded until he was called.

There were only two prosecution attorney's seated at the table today. Harry kept shooting his eye over to see why. The redhead was missing in action and the other two attorneys didn't seem concerned about it. They hadn't called Harry to the stand yet because they had requested to wait until their colleague had arrived. 

"Why do they need her here?" Harry whispered to Jake.

Jake shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner. "Look unconcerned," Jake told him.

Harry leaned back in his chair and stared straight ahead of him.

When five minutes had passed, Giles spoke. "Counselor Auferre," he said, "I will not wait any longer."

Auferre stood up. "If it would please the court, the prosecution would like to call their own witness and call the defendant when we have--" he stopped as the back door opened and his colleague slipped in and nodded, then walked to the front. "Yes, your honor. We would like to begin now."

Harry's heart rate accelerated and his palms started to sweat.

"You'll be fine," Jake said to him.

"Please take a seat up here, Mr. Potter," Giles said, signaling with his eyes to the witness's chair.

Harry took two cleansing breaths, pushed his chair back, stood up, and began his slow march to his chair. He couldn't help but think of when his name had been drawn from the Goblet of Fire. Finally he took his seat. From here he could see the entire courtroom. Each person seated in the court became insanely visible; the jury's faces were really close to him now, and the judges were to his immediate right, only fearfully higher up than he was. He swallowed nothing, as his throat was incredibly dry, then focused his attention on Counselor Auferre, who was approaching him.

"Good morning, Harry," he said kindly.

"Good morning," Harry responded.

Auferre looked into Harry's eyes and paced the room. "How do you think you survived the stabbing incident?" he asked.

Harry thought that was a strange question to have asked, but simple enough. "I don't know," he said with the shrug of his shoulders.

"It was a miracle you survived," Auferre said, "don't you think?"

"Yes," Harry said slowly. "It's a miracle I saw my second birthday, actually."

"Too true," Auferre said. "Yesterday you told the court that when you were with your wife, you were also working, correct?" he asked.

Harry looked at Jake then to Auferre. "Yeah," he said slowly.

Auferre folded his hands behind his back and nodded to himself. "Did you do anything special?" he asked.

"Being with my family was special," he replied. "I'm afraid you'll have to clarify."

Auferre moved his lips about. "Did you do anything out of the ordinary?"

"Objection," Jake said. "Where is this going?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Sustained."

"I have a point, your honors, I promise," Auferre said.

"Get to it fast," McCelan added.

Auferre turned back to Harry. "Out of the ordinary… Did you meet with anyone, or work on something special while you were away?"

Harry sighed and shut his eyes. "I did nothing with the Black Order, if that's what you mean."

When Harry opened his eyes he saw Auferre was walking back to his table. "So you weren't doing anything out of the ordinary? You weren't doing anything any other wizard wouldn't do?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said.

"Are you a metamorphmagus?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'm not very good at it. I haven't had much practice."

"Are you an Animagus?" he asked right after.

"No."

Auferre turned his back to Harry and picked up something from the table. Harry couldn't see what it was.

"Do you have telekinetic abilities?" he asked.

"Yeah," he said, frowning now. He looked over at Jake hoping for an objection.

Then Auferre whirled around and threw a knife at Harry. It happened so fast, the people in the courtroom didn't have time to react to it. 

In a fraction of a second from the time the knife was thrown, Harry raised his hand and stopped the knife in midair before it came within eight feet of him. It remained stationed in the air, as if it were stuck their permanently. Then everyone exclaimed sounds of shock and surprise.

"What is the meaning of this!" Giles demanded. 

Auferre smiled. "No one has reflexes that fast, your honors," he said in a raised voice to accommodate for the loud chatter in the courtroom. "I threw that knife faster than anyone could have thrust it with their hands, but the defendant has stopped it before it came too close, or even remotely close," he said. The court was listening to what he had to say. "In fact," Auferre continued, "no human alive has reflexes that fast."

"Are you suggesting Harry Potter isn't human?" Giles asked.

"No," Auferre said.

Harry sat silently in his chair, breathing hard and sweating as he watched the scene unfold.

Auferre walked over and pulled the knife from the air as he stared at Harry.

Jake shot out of his chair but Auferre did not turn around to see him. "Your honor," Jake said angrily, "Counselor Auferre has tried to murder my client. I would like it very much if he was removed from the courtroom!"

"Your honors," Auferre countered, "there are only two ways Harry Potter could have stopped that knife. One, he's more than human and possesses extremely fast reflexes, or two, Harry knew I was going to throw it before I actually did. You see the reason I did it. I had to test my theory." He looked back at Harry and smiled.

Harry looked at the faces in the courtroom. Everyone was staring at him as if he was some kind of circus freak. Even Hermione looked stunned beyond words.

"And if his theory had failed," Jake continued after a delay, "he would have certainly injured my client!"

"But I didn't, your honor. Harry stopped it and the court should be asking how he did it!" he yelled.

"Order in this court!" Giles yelled. "There will be a meeting in chambers." The courtroom broke out into mumbles and whispers as all three judges and Auferre and Jake walked into the back room. Harry was left in the witness chair to be gawked and stared at. He saw Ron and Hermione were fixated on him, as was everyone else. Harry looked from face to face, but couldn't take their expressions anymore, so he dropped his head. It felt like years before the private, unseen meeting had ended. Harry was expecting to be sent out of his chair, like Jake had probably wanted, but upon return the five of them acted as if nothing had happened.

"Continue with your questions," Giles told Auferre.

Harry shot a questioned look to his attorney, who was staring straight ahead of him, not at Harry.

"Mr. Potter," Auferre asked, "do you have precognitive abilities?" he asked.

Harry swallowed hard. He wanted Jake to stand up and object.

"Do you know when something dramatic will happen next?" Auferre pressed on. "Answer my question!"

Harry turned his eyes to him and slowly nodded. Once again the courtroom let out sounds of shock.

"So why," he continued, "was the 'Dagger of Ithaca' able to penetrate your heart back in December? Why did you allow, you say Malfoy, to stab you? Why didn't you stop him? Why did you let him nearly murder you?" he asked.

Harry suddenly realized that his heart was pounding out of control. "I didn't know he--"

"But you knew _I_ was throwing that knife. That happened much faster than having someone raise their hand," he said, pulling his hand into the air, "and plunging it down. But you didn't stop it."

"I couldn't," he responded quickly. "They were stronger than I was!" Harry cried. "Why would I allow anyone to do that to me?"

"How should I know?" he answered back. "Because you knew you would survive, maybe. You knew it would make you appear innocent."

"I didn't know ahead of time what they were planning on," Harry protested.

"Why not? What was so different about them?" he demanded.

Harry shook his head in thought. "Maybe they knew Occlumency," he suggested. 

"Occlumency?" Auferre asked. "How would them being able to block you from entering their mind make it difficult for you to predict their actions?" He raised his eyebrows at Harry but was unaffected by the suggestion.

Harry shut his mouth and stared.

Auferre walked back to his table and picked up a book, then walked back. "Mr. Potter," he continued, "do you know who Clarice Starling is?" 

Harry considered mentioning that the name was used for the protagonist in _Silence of the Lambs_, but knew he shouldn't.

"She wrote a book," Auferre pressed. "It was published rather recently, actually. Late October of last year. It's called 'Telepathy: The Hidden Power in Magic.' Do you know who she is?" 

"Sure," Harry said in what he hoped sounded calm.

"Do you know her personally?" Auferre asked.

Harry didn't answer.

"She's yay high," Auferre went on, leveling his hand just below the middle of his chest, "in her early nineties; her eyesight isn't too good; she has a kind disposition. You know her?" He walked closer to Harry and leaned his arm over onto the witness box. "And I should tell you that lying about it will only cost you credibility. You see, Mrs. Starling is my next witness. So I'll ask you again, Mr. Potter, do you know Clarice Starling personally?"

Harry shut his eyes and dropped his head. "Yes," he breathed.

"And why is that?" Auferre asked.

Harry opened his eyes and moistened his lips. "I met her a few years ago."

"What were the circumstances?"

"I," he started. He didn't want to look up to see the courtroom. "I went to her house."

Harry could tell without looking that his questioner was grinning. "Why?" he continued.

Harry finally looked up to see Jake, hoping for an objection, but Jake remained as still as a statue, eager to hear what Harry had to say, just like everyone else.

"Because I was having some trouble," he said slowly and quietly.

"What kind of trouble? Please be specific, Harry, and speak up so everyone can hear you."

Auferre stepped back a little so Harry had a grander view of the courtroom. "It's hard to explain," he said.

"I bet it is," he said. Harry was reminded heavily of Columbus Blair. "I just have a few more questions for you. Do you have telepathic abilities?"

Harry looked at the floor and kept his jaw locked.

"Answer the question," Giles said from above him.

"Yes, but--" 

"Can you hear the thoughts of other people?" he asked.

Harry screwed his eyes shut this time. "Sometimes, but--"

"Have you told your friends, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and members of his family, or Dumbledore about this ability of yours?"

"No because--"

"Those are all my questions. You may step down," Auferre said dismissively.

"I can explain!" Harry yelled.

"But you just said it was hard to explain. Your time is up, Mr. Potter. Step down so I can call my next witness." 

"Step down, Mr. Potter" Giles said to him. 

Harry remained seated and turned to the jury so he could explain.

"I said step down, Mr. Potter," Giles repeated.

Harry stood up and walked back to his seat. His legs felt like rubber and his chair felt like it was shaking when he sat in it. Jake didn't turn to him--the jury was scowling at Harry.

"You may call you first witness, Counselor," Giles said to Auferre.

"The prosecution will call Clarice Starling to the stand."

And from the back of the court the double doors opened and a small and elderly woman, walking with a cane, hobbled to the front. Auferre took her arm and escorted her to the witness stand. The skin on Clarice's face hung loosely. She had hundreds of wrinkles, most of them about her cloudy blue eyes, and her hair was white and thin.

"For the record," Auferre said, "could you state your full name and occupation."

"Yes," she said in a shaky old voice. "Clarice Starling, teacher, writer, and mentor. I don't have a middle name."

"Mrs. Starling, how long have you been mentoring Harry Potter?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, folding her shaking hands in her lap. "He came to me in desperation late August of 2001. The poor soul didn't know what was wrong with him. But I knew as soon as I realized he had come to see me, that Harry had just unlocked his telepathic abilities."

Harry sighed as his head fell into his hands.

"How did you know that, Mrs. Starling?"

"He was shaking with stress, he was very worried and desperate. Harry could hear and see the thoughts of countless people and couldn't stop them. It was like a badly tuned radio and Harry couldn't turn off the voices in his head. He came to me so I could help him. I was glad to, of course," she added with a smile. "I always love to help."

"Harry can hear and see the thoughts of other people?"

"Yes. But he didn't want to. Harry thinks telepathy is a curse, not a gift."

"Uh huh," Auferre said to the jury. "And just how did you help Harry? Please be as specific as you can."

Clarice took some time to gather her thoughts. "Well," she began, "I told him that controlling his new power would take years of hard work and practice, mostly in total isolation. But he didn't want to leave. He had just met Audrey and was falling in love with her. He didn't tell me that," she said, "I just knew he found someone. Then I asked him if anyone in his family had been telepathic. Usually small signs occur just after the twenty-first birthday. Sometimes it takes longer and is more gradual, but other times, like Harry's, it comes violently. But he didn't know. How could he have?"

"So if he didn't want to learn the long and solitary way," Auferre started, "how did you teach him?"

"Well," she said, "there are some quick fixes, but they aren't meant to be used alone."

"Quick fixes? Drugs?"

"Well, potions more like. I told Harry I would provide him with the potion if he promised to see me so we could train his mind," she said. Clarice nodded to him.

"What kind of potion?"

"Oh it's called spectareminure. It's very powerful. It helps Harry to filter out and sometimes block his mind off from others."

"So it helps him to control the voices he hears?" Auferre asked as he looked at the jury.

Harry saw Jake glare at him.

"Well yes. It makes it easier for him to control his ability. But he still needed to be taught."

Auferre walked back over to his table over and picked up her book. He started to flip through the pages but continued to ask questions.

"Mrs. Starling, what did you teach Harry to do first?"

"I taught him how to protect his own mind. He already had the basic experience needed for this. I told him in order to stop the thoughts of others, he would first need to block his mind so I couldn't see inside. It's a first step toward control."

"You could see inside Harry's mind?" he asked.

She made her lips thin. "Harry learned how to block very quickly. The Occlumency he was taught before helped him. I wasn't able to see much."

Auferre nodded his head. "Then what did you do?"

Harry tapped Jake's shoulder and whispered, "Why are you letting this go on?"

He turned around slowly. "Because there's nothing I can object to."

Clarice took a drink of water. "I tried teaching him how to control his telepathy. I tried to help him stop the voices."

"You tried?" he asked. 

"Yes," she said sadly. "In order for me to teach him how to do it properly, he would have to open up his mind to me, and he was never willing to do that. There has to be complete trust for me to teach properly, but he just didn't want me to see inside of him."

There were murmurs in the crowd now, but Clarice continued.

"It's not strange for this to happen," she insisted. "How many of you want your deepest secrets, thoughts, or past opened up for a stranger to see? I am old and remember what it was like to be young. But age had nothing to do with Harry. Harry didn't want me to see because he didn't want to relive it. There are demons in his past."

"So you can't read Harry's mind because he won't let you?" Auferre asked.

"The mind cannot be read. It is much more intricate than that, Mr. Auferre. But I cannot see into his mind because he doesn't wish it."

Auferre smiled and looked to the jury. "Can anyone else see into his mind?" he asked.

"No. Harry would have to let his guard down for someone to see inside."

"That's interesting," he said. He opened her book to a certain page. "You write in your book that telepaths have the ability to send messages, not only to telepaths, but to anyone if they know how, correct?"

"A powerful telepath, yes."

Auferre shut the book but kept it in his two hands. "Only really powerful. Is Harry that powerful in your opinion?" he asked.

Clarice took some time to think, and in that time she gazed over at Harry with her weak eyes and sent him a sad smile. "It's hard to say," she replied.

"But it's not impossible for Harry to transmit messages, even plans to someone else?"

"I know where you're going with this, young man," she said to him. "Nothing is ever impossible, but Harry wouldn't send schemes and orders to maniacal men."

"You don't think he would do that?"

"No."

"Mrs. Starling, is it a fact that at this very moment, Harry could be looking inside my mind, or the jury's minds, or anyone in this room for that matter? Is it possible he could do that?" he asked. He paced around the front as he awaited her answer.

"Yes it is."

"So if Harry wants, if he has the control, he can see inside someone's mind at any given moment?" he continued.

"If he has the control, yes."

Harry shut his eyes and bit his lip. They didn't understand, none of them did. Harry _had_ tried to see inside Malfoy's mind. He tried to see inside Leucosia's mind. But they blocked him. Leucosia had to have given them her power. Why couldn't they understand that?

"And could anyone but a trained telepath or someone who was familiar with Occlumency be able to stop Harry from entering his or her own mind?"

Clarice sighed and shook her head. "No."

"So," Auferre started at her, "if Harry told you that a strange woman could see into his mind and was toying with his thoughts, what would you say?"

Clarice kept her mouth sealed shut. She started to flatten out some creases on her skirt and fiddle with a handkerchief in her hands. 

"Mrs. Starling?" he asked again.

"I don't know what I would say."

He nodded understandingly and put his hands in his pockets. "I have only one more question for you. Does Veritaserum work effectively on someone with a high telepathic aptitude?"

Clarice shook her head. "No."

"Thank you," he said. He walked confidently back to his table. Jake picked up his parchment pad and walked toward Clarice now. She smiled at him, showing her white teeth.

"Mrs. Starling," he started, not sounding as confident as he had been yesterday, "how much training is required to start sending messages telepathically?"

"A few years of hard work. It all depends on the individual ability. I don't think Harry has reached that level yet. He would come and see me occasionally so we could practice together, but again, Harry didn't give me his full trust."

"So you didn't make enough progress for him to… transmit?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she said firmly.

Jake poured over his notes again and paced around thoughtfully. "With your knowledge of Harry, and your expertise, do you think he is leader of the Black Order?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Thank you," he said. He walked back to his chair and nearly fell in it. Clarice left the courtroom slowly with the help of the bailiff. 

"How could you let that happen?" Harry hissed in Jake's ear.

Jake turned around with his brows furrowed and kept his voice to a low hush. "As your attorney you should have prepared me for anything. You only told me about your wife, but nothing of this telepathy or precognition. Harry, don't you know what this means? It means that, no matter where you were, you could still send orders to the Black Order. It means that, if you can prognosticate and see into someone's mind, then you should have prevented your own stabbing and the entire hostage situation. God only knows who the prosecution will call next! You should have told me everything! I can't help you anymore."

Harry scowled back at him. "I didn't do it," he said.

"We'll have difficulty proving it now," Jake said to him, then turned to face the front of the room.

Next the prosecution called Langston Colby, an expert potions master. He was in his late seventies and had been working on potions for most of his life. The prosecution had called him to discuss the properties and purposes of the spectareminure potion, the one Harry was taking. Colby told the court that the potion was very powerful and effected the brain in more ways than one. The potion took effect on the deeper thought processes in the Cerebral Cortex, which controlled many of the body's functions. A telepath's communication center of the brain was hyperactive. The potion would slow it down and make it easier for the telepath to make sense of the information given to him, as well as messages sent.

But there were side effects to the potion. Because it is so powerful, the drinker could become heavily agitated, be wrought with migraines, or sometimes become violent because of the effect it had on the brain. Colby went on to say that the potion wasn't to be taken in large doses or very often for it could cause permanent damage to the brain.

"So how would someone keep taking the potion in small enough doses to stay in control?" Auferre asked.

"We found out that Mr. Potter was having cigarettes sent to his flat. They contain a small enough amount of the potion in dry form. The same effects take place but the danger of it is lessened. The potion has quite a lasting effect, meaning its power could last for a few weeks, but then Mr. Potter would have to start on it again or he'd have some horrible relapses."

"What kind of relapses?" Auferre asked.

"He'd be overwhelmed by incoming thoughts, voices, and images from the population."

"I see. Mr. Colby would it be possible for this potion to cause the drinker to become delusional?" he asked.

"There have been very rare instances when someone has become delusional. Usually he or she will have taken the potion for too long or relied on it too heavily, so it becomes a problem. They will become overly agitated and violent, and along with that perhaps paranoid about the thoughts they hear."

Auferre nodded and looked to the jury. "Could the delusion take its own form, say as a separate personality?"

Colby sighed. "As to that I'm not sure. That would best be covered by someone who studies that kind of thing. But I wouldn't rule it out."

Auferre nodded in a final manner and walked back to his seat.

"Does everyone who takes this potion have the side effects?" Jake asked from his seat.

"No," Colby replied.

"Thank you. I have no further questions."

Colby stepped down and left the courtroom.

Harry, once again, turned to Jake. "That was it? That was all you could ask him? Maybe I should remind you at this time, that I'm paying you to defend me!" he hissed.

"I'm doing my best. What should I have asked him?" Jake whispered.

"You're the attorney, think of something," Harry suggested.

"Well maybe you could've invaded his mind and found out what questions would've discredited him, Harry," Jake said. He leaned back in his chair and waited until the next witness was called. Harry almost puked when Doctor Marc Simon was called to the stand. He had seen enough of him in a few days to last a life time. He took the stand calmly and answered all of the preliminary questions with ease.

Of course Marc wasn't asked about Harry's good side, only what nutty things he'd said. Primarily Marc's testimony concerned the possibility that Harry was delusional. But Marc kept to his original word to Harry--he never mentioned any specifics. Not that what he said helped Harry in any remote way.

"Doctor Simon," Auferre continued to ask, "in your expert psychological opinion, do you believe that Leucosia is a real enemy of Harry's?"

"I believe that Leucosia is a delusion which gradually built itself up in Harry's troubled mind. I don't think he intended for her to be created, but his mind created another persona which could fulfill his secret wishes. In other words, Leucosia was created to carry out Harry's biddings."

"Are you saying," the counselor asked, "that Leucosia could in fact be a separate personality of his?"

"Yes," Marc said. 

"But she's a woman."

"That's something that makes it more believable. The multiple personalities can include both sexes. In Harry's case, Leucosia would represent a mother figure. She wants him to be with her, she's powerful, and she has the capability of striking fear in him. But Leucosia is just out of reach, just like a mother figure would be in Harry's sense. Leucosia, on some level, wants to protect Harry from the public because she believes the public will harm him."

"That's insane!" Harry yelled from his seat.

"You will remain silent, Mr. Potter, or I'll remove you from this courtroom," Giles commanded him. Harry sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"Doctor Simon," Auferre said, "did Harry Potter act normally when you were assigned to him?"

Marc shook his head. "No."

"Please describe to the court some of his tendencies and actions."

Marc cleared his throat and looked to the jury. "Harry Potter found out a lot of my background just by looking me in the eye. It makes sense now knowing that he's telepathic. He has a short-fused temper, which isn't unordinary for someone in Harry's profile, and he enjoys intimidating people. I guess what would sum him up best was his love and need to have power. You see, when he was contained, Harry wasn't able to use magic, not at first. The only way he could get control was to intimidate me. There were a few times when I was in there with him that I feared for my life. Harry was actually amused when I was frightened by him. Then, eventually he got his physical strength back and knocked me out thinking I was Leucosia."

"Hmm," Auferre said as he paced. "You described Harry as dangerous in your report, didn't you, Doctor?"

"Yes. It almost seems that Harry is unaware of how strong he really is. Harry has more of an inborn magic, which means he can channel his power into virtually any avenue. At times he could look inside my mind, other times he could jump out of his bed and run to the door faster than anything I've seen. All of this power he could do while being somewhat suppressed by high security charms. I suppose what's most dangerous about him is that he can't ever be properly contained. His body adapted to anything we gave him so he could free himself."

"Doctor, does Mr. Potter know the difference between right and wrong?" Auferre asked.

"Yes," Marc replied. 

"Thank you for your testimony," he said, and walked to his own seat.

Jake remained stationary as he casually flipped through his file which sat on the table. He rubbed his chin in thought, then yawned. Finally he stood up.

"Doctor Simon," he started, "is it possible that you're wrong and Leucosia has played Harry and positioned him just where she wants him?" he asked.

Marc didn't answer right away. "It is more likely that she's preying on Harry's worst and most paranoid fears, therefore making him actually fall into his own trap. I do not believe she is real. Harry said that Leucosia made him think he was striking her when he hit Hermione and me. What's more, Harry claims that Leucosia can see into his mind, which isn't possible. But I suppose," he said doubtfully, "that she is real. Anything's possible."

Jake flipped through his notes, trying to appear confident. "How did Harry react when you told him that he had hurt Hermione?"

"He denied it at first, then he was sorry about it."

"How did he react when you told him that he had injured you?"

"Again he denied it and was sorry about it later. He wasn't sorry for intimidating me."

"That wasn't my question," Jake said. He stood in silence as he looked at his notes for another question, but came up with nothing. The judges asked him if he had another question, but Jake didn't respond immediately.

"Is there--" he began, almost hesitantly. "Is there true goodness in Harry's heart?"

"I believe," Marc said slowly, "that he loves his family very much. I don't doubt that he would do anything for them. He also cares for his friends, Ron and Hermione. It always seemed to me, however, that Harry was tainted, and I'm not sure by what. There is no doubt that Harry was once good, but things have changed. For me it's very hard to say."

Jake looked down at his notes again, but didn't ask another question. He returned to his seat as Marc walked out of the courtroom.

"The prosecution rests," Auferre said.

Giles turned to Jake and asked if Jake had anything else he could present. But Jake shook his head then answered the court verbally. Giles nodded then told both attorneys to give their summations of the case before the jury would deliberate on a verdict. Though Jake went first, Harry couldn't hear him. He stared absentmindedly at a seal on the opposite wall which read: _May Justice Be Done_. Harry heard Jake's voice mull over something. It sounded as if he was using his voice inflection to make certain points. But then Jake's voice became more distant and the only thing Harry could hear was his steady and rhythmic breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Jake sat down once he'd finished and Harry assumed Auferre stood up to address the jury next. Inhale, exhale. 

Harry heard the Black Order mentioned. 

Inhale, exhale. 

He heard words like "telepathy," and "anger." He heard phrases like, "he lied to his best friends," and "Harry Potter's secret life has been revealed." 

Inhale, exhale. 

Auferre spoke for decades, or so it seemed. He had much more to say than Jake did. But when he finally finished and sat himself down, Harry heard Giles tell the jury to go and take their time to come up with a verdict. Then Harry heard the jury members bustle out of the courtroom into their own private chamber where they would decide Harry's fate. 

Inhale…

**

Harry and Jake were sent into their own chamber to wait for the jury to come back. Jake, though, had left for a while and hadn't returned. He left Harry alone in the room with security wizards waiting outside. Harry had his elbows on the table and his clasped hands to his chin. His eyes were unfocused but stared at the same seal that was in the courtroom. _May Justice Be Done_.

Jake returned sometime after four in the afternoon. The jury was still meeting and had been for close to an hour now. Jake sat down in a chair across from Harry with folded blue parchment slips.

"I suggest," he started plainly, "that you plea this out before the jury comes back."

Harry swallowed and let his eyes focus again on his attorney. "What?" he asked with a scratchy throat.

"A plea bargain. If you admit to the crimes and help the Ministry collect the members of the Black Order, the Ministry will lessen your sentence."

Harry shut his eyes and leaned his forehead on his hands.

"I think it's the best way for you to go. If you're found guilty, you're looking at one-hundred and fifty years in Vincula. But if you take the deal and you cooperate with the Ministry, they'll drop the sentence down to fifty years."

Harry shook his head and looked up. "But I didn't do it," he said feebly. "Jake I'm innocent of this. I didn't do this. Please believe me, Jake."

Jake sighed. "I wish I could," he said slowly. "But there's a reason I chose to be a prosecutor."

"And there's a reason I had to be an Auror," Harry answered back. "I will not make a deal," he started, his voice still shaking. "I will not admit to crimes I haven't committed. They have zero proof that I murdered those people."

"They have everything they need to convince a jury. I know you see it, Harry. That's why you didn't tell me you were telepathic. It's the crown jewel. It's what made everything fall into place. It makes you look guilty of everything, Harry. You hurt yourself further when it was obvious to the jury that you didn't tell me about it. Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Harry you keep digging yourself these holes. Please take the deal to get yourself out."

"What's the difference between fifty and one-hundred and fifty years? I can't have Audrey wait for me. Dana won't remember me at all. My friends won't speak to me. I will not admit to these charges because I'm innocent. I can't even make a deal because I don't have the information they want. And I'm innocent. I'm innocent!" he yelled. Why didn't they understand? Auferre, Verit, Blair… they were all the same.

Jake nodded, gathered his papers, and left again. Harry pondered his new predicament. Dumbledore and Auferre had agreed that Harry was one of the most powerful wizards alive. There was hope, then. After all, Azkaban hadn't had any escapes until Sirius Black, his own godfather and an innocent man, broke free to save Harry. Harry had reasons to break free. If it took twelve or twenty years to do it, by God he'd do it. Nothing was escape-proof anymore. Why, the jury could come back and remember everything Harry had done in the past, and give the "not guilty" verdict. Harry could go home to live with his family.

But the realist in him kicked in. It was impossible to escape from Vincula. 

At half past six in the evening, Harry and Jake were told that the jury had made a decision. The both of them were escorted back into the courtroom. Harry couldn't believe the trial had only taken two days. Two days. It had to be one of the shortest on record. And just this morning, Dana had hitched a ride on his leg while Harry was taking coffee to his beautiful wife.

The jury filed into their chairs. Harry didn't want to hear their thoughts. He had enough control not to. But a tiny part wanted to know. But there was no point in putting in the effort. Arthur, who had remained eerily silent for the duration of the trial, was asking the jury about their findings.

"How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the murder charges?"

Harry looked up at the jury. The leader of them, answered.

"We find the defendant not guilty," she said.

Harry's heart jumped.

"How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the conspiracy to murder charge?" Arthur asked.

Harry took in a breath as he watched the leader.

"We find the defendant guilty."

Harry felt as if all the air were being sucked out of his lungs. The courtroom also took in a breath.

"How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the charges of leading and forming the Black Order?"

The leader swallowed. Harry closed his eyes and exhaled the air that remained in his lungs.

"We find the defendant," she started, then looked at Harry, "guilty." 

______________________________________________________________________________

End note: First off, thanks to my wonderful beta, Elizabeth, who works so hard to get my chapter to me so fast. Secondly, if you would like parts of the trial or chapter clarified, please email me or leave a review with the question you want answered (remember to leave your email), or join my Yahoo group and discuss this chapter with other members.

This is not the end of the story! No way would I end it here. I will not quit this story unless I lose my hands in a freak accident, or I die. I will finish, so stop worrying that I won't! :) 

  



	10. The International Wizard Bureau of Inves...

**A note concerning reviews:** _If you are going to make rude assumptions about me and leave it in an anonymous review, leave your email address so I can contact you privately and address the issue. Or don't make the assumptions about me at all. I have never watched a second of court tv in my life so don't tell me that I do. And don't use profanity in a review! If you do I will either delete it, or report you to ff.net abuse and block you. Also, I don't appreciate the attitude (a select few readers have) that I should change the way I write to accomodate for a religious affiliation. Never. I will not change the way I write for any reason I don't care what it is. I think it's time that I remind you that I don't get paid to write. I spend my own time and money (electricity and internet usage doesn't come free) to write because I enjoy doing it and I like to share it with others._

_Most of the reviews I get make me smile and blush with appreciation and gratitude, but unfortunately two reviews really ticked me off and I had to address them so it won't be repeated._

_Now, here's the chapter you've been patiently waiting for. I hope you like it._

Chapter Ten: The International Wizard Bureau of Investigation

"Guilty," hung in the air for all to hear. It rang in Harry's ears as if ringing was all he heard. For some reason Harry's neck turned his head to the right to see the prosecution table. Auferre looked only slightly pleased with the verdict. Jake Verit had his chin in his hand and had his eyes cast downward. When Harry looked back at the three judges, he noticed that Arthur was staring at him. For a moment they simply stared into each other's eyes. Arthur had known Harry for so long as a good person, yet here he sat, presiding and soon to be deciding Harry's sentence for uncommitted crimes.

Suddenly Harry's thoughts were cut short as the back doors opened in a flurry then slammed shut. For some reason Harry flipped around to see. He saw a dark cloak slide through the doors then vanish. Then he heard the buzzing of the courtroom, all a flurry over the verdict.

"I want order!" Giles called out as he pounded his gavel, which he hadn't used at all. Harry pulled himself around to face the front. "I will have order in this courtroom." He waited a few seconds for the chatter to die down then continued to speak. "Now," he began in a shaking voice. "The prosecution has submitted to me the sentencing."

Harry refused to believe he was even sitting where he was sitting. It couldn't be happening to him. This wasn't real. This had to be a nightmare. An intricate, complex, and eerily realistic nightmare, but still just a bad dream.

Harry had never stayed in a court long enough to know how sentencing was handled. He knew that Muggle legal systems were similar to the wizarding way, but had some differences. The Muggles usually waited a while to decide sentencing, but it seemed that it was one of the differences--wizards decided right away. 

"Of course," Giles continued, "the defense can file an appeal if you choose, but Mr. Potter will need to serve his time in the meanwhile." He sorted through some of his papers, pulled his glasses off his face, cleaned them, and replaced them. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Verit, will you please stand."

Jake stood up first then looked down at Harry, who placed his hands on the table and pushed himself up.

"It is the will of the court," Giles began, looking straight at Harry, "and of its judges and jury, that you, Harry James Potter, be sentenced to one-hundred and fifty years in the maximum security wizard prison, Vincula Solitarum. Your fate will then be determined upon release, should you live to see that day. You will not be allowed outside contact by anyone until you are released. There is no parole. On a personal note," he said, "I find it disturbing that you have channeled your abilities into such a murderous cause. You have lied to everyone, even your friends. May your time be spent on reflecting what it is you've done and I hope your victims haunt your sleep." Giles let his gavel fall once more. The courtroom broke out into sound as three bailiffs, who happened to be highly trained Hit Wizards, led Harry out of the court and into a separate room. 

In it was a very small table and two chairs. Harry was seated in one of them and told to wait. Minutes later, Audrey, whose face was red and dripping with tears, streamed inside with Dana beside her, who was obviously confused. Harry stood up and walked toward them. Sobbing loudly now, Audrey threw her arms around him and sobbed into his neck. But Harry still couldn't believe it.

"Why is mummy cwying?" Dana asked as she hugged Harry's leg. Audrey pulled back and wiped her eyes as she started to hyperventilate. 

"It'll be okay," Harry heard himself say. He picked up Dana, possibly for the last time, and sat down in his chair while Audrey sat across the table. "Nothing's escape proof anymore," he said numbly. Dana wrapped her small chubby arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "It may take a while," he continued dully, "but I'll get out."

Audrey didn't seem soothed by his proclamation. Instead the speed of her flowing tears seemed to increase tenfold. She managed to stifle her hyperventilation and sobbing, but instead she cried silently as she stared at him.

"I've been a good saver," Harry went on in his same dull tone. Half of him couldn't believe he was even speaking. "There should be plenty of money in my account. You won't ever have to work or want for anything if you're smart about it. And Aiden's account should've built up some more since you haven't used it for years now. Put that towards Hogwarts, okay?" he asked. He felt an unfamiliar painful burning in his eyes as he stared at her.

Audrey chewed on her lips and nodded at him, her eyes over-bright with her tears. "And," he continued, feeling his chest contract, "and if you wouldn't mind," he said, "maybe you could encourage her, not force her, to tryout for the house Quidditch team?"

Audrey sniffed loudly and wiped her face with the back of her hands. 

"I know you were in Ravenclaw, but I'm hoping she's a Gryffindor," Harry went on. "I only wish you could tell me somehow," he said. He closed his eyes when he felt his own tears brimming in his eyes. "But maybe," he started again, "maybe I'll get out and I'll watch her play, as a stranger, kinda like Sirius did with me."

Dana finally looked up at him and put her small hands on his cheeks. "Why awre you sad?" she asked with a morose frown. "Daddy, can we go home now?" she asked in her cute voice that Harry would never get enough of.

Harry took a deep breath and mustered a sad smile for her. "You and mum are going to go home soon, all right? I'm going on a little trip. But I'll see you soon, okay?"

Dana kissed his cheek and rested her head on his chest.

One of the bailiffs walked toward them. "Wrap it up," he told Harry.

"Go away," Harry told him for what it was worth. Then he looked back at Audrey and smiled at her. "I don't want you to be alone," he whispered to her. "It would hurt, but I would understand if you filed for… you know what, and found someone else."

Audrey started to shake her head at him, but Harry had to finish.

"You're still so young," he said to her, "just do it when you're ready and you need someone."

Audrey answered him in a husky voice, "I'll wait for you."

"Don't wait more than two years," he told her. "I know you don't need my permission if I'm…" he looked down at Dana and put his hand on her small, soft, head. He bent his head down and kissed her, then hugged her. "I love you," he told her. "I always will."

"I wove you twoo, daddy," she said as she lay there. Harry nodded to himself, the tears welling up in the bottom of his eyes so he could actually see them. He shut them and rested his chin on Dana's head as he hugged her and rocked her back and forth.

Audrey stood up and walked bravely around the table to be nearer to him.

"I love you," Harry said to his wife with his shaky voice. "I should've told you every day," he said. "I should've told you the day I met you, I was just too scared," he uttered.

"I knew then and I know now," she replied. She kneeled down a little and lightly kissed his cheeks. "I always loved you," she said, "and I always will. Always, no matter what changes come our way." She rested her temple on his then slid her head so she could whisper in his ear. "I'll never stop loving you," she whispered, "no matter what," she said so softly it gave Harry chills because he knew she was sincere.

Harry stood up so suddenly he shocked himself. He gave Dana to Audrey, hugged them quickly, kissed them, and walked from the room so fast he took everyone, including himself, by surprise. After recovering from the jolt, the bailiffs escorted him out of the room. 

He didn't look back.

Then he was led to another room, where Jake sat looking nervous. Harry didn't sit down when asked. He only stared at Jake, awaiting a speech.

"I'll appeal," Jake said.

"You shouldn't have lost," Harry growled, his fists clenched and shaking with rage. "There was zero evidence. Appeal? You better believe you will. Anything else you'd like to tell me before I rot in prison for crimes I didn't commit?" he asked. "Make it good, I just said goodbye the family I prayed for."

Jake looked up at him with frightened eyes and shook his head. "It's trivial, but the Ministry has cut you. You're no longer and Auror."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah," he said through gritted teeth. "So I guess this is it. Good luck, Jake," he said, thrusting his hand out to him. "Tell Hermione and Ron that I'll miss them," he started darkly, shaking Jake's had with a fearsome grip, "and that I thank them for their friendship and company when I needed it most. You'll do that, won't you? Promise me you'll do it? And when the time comes to write the history books, make sure it slants my way, will you?" he asked.

Jake nodded slightly and pulled his hand out of Harry's, then started to massage it with his other hand. Harry stared at Jake even as the bailiff's led him away to yet another room. This room was completely empty. 

Harry was curious as to how they would arrive at Vincula. He had never been there, as the secret location was key to its superior security. He would rather it remain a mystery to him, but that was only a wish now.

"Cooperate Harry," one of the wizards said. Harry was sure he recognized the voice, but he didn't look at his face. But cooperating wasn't in his plans. If Harry was going to escape, now would be the time. There was no way, magical or physically, that three pitiful Hit Wizards would take him to Vincula. Cooperate? Yeah, over his dead and rotting body.

"How is this going to work?" Harry asked, measuring the wizards up and down with his eyes.

One of them gave a muffled laugh and patted Harry's shoulder. Another walked forward and stood in front of Harry, cracked his knuckles, then threw a punch at him.

Harry laughed inside at the effort. _No one could take him down_. 

Harry was ready to fight before the punch was thrown and made to enter battle, but the wizard standing behind Harry whipped something from his pocket and covered Harry's nose and mouth with it and kept it there.

Harry thrashed to try to get away. He was pulling with his quickly diminishing strength at his captor's arm, trying to free himself from the poisoned cloth. He knew what it was. It was simple chloroform. They were taking him down, Harry Potter, conqueror of Lord Voldemort, with chloroform. 

Harry tried kicking, but the other two wizards advanced and pushed the cloth harder against Harry's nose and mouth. Even though he wasn't breathing it in, he could feel the poison taking some effect. He could feel his face flush red from lack of oxygen, and his strength vanishing because of it.

"Be good, now," one of the wizards said to him. "Take a deep breath."

He was lightheaded now and sure he would faint, in which case he'd start breathing again. But it didn't stop him from trying. He fought as long as he could, eventually moving all four of them to a corner until he couldn't fight any longer. At last his body had to have air and despite his hard will, Harry took a deep breath and instantly felt weak. His head felt lighter than ever, his vision was fading to black, and his legs and arms gave in. He was out.

**

Harry heard someone groan, which he soon realized was his him. Then he sniffed something strange and potent that nearly made him retch. He tried pulling his head away, but wasn't successful.

"He's coming to," said a stranger someone sounding distant.

"Wakey, wakey," the same rough voice said, swimming closer to him. The man's thick hands grabbed Harry's jaw and pulled his whole head up. That's when Harry realized he was being held by his elbows by two other men presumably to keep from falling; his knees were collapsed, but the two men were holding him steady while the third had his jaw. "Come on now Potter, wake up." The man lightly slapped Harry's cheeks with his free hand.

Harry groaned again and lifted his eyelids halfway, but his vision was strangely blurred. The first thing he found was a name inscribed on a bronze bar pinned to a uniform. "M. Burg" was all it read.

"There he is," M. Burg said in an apathetic tone. "It's time to rise and shine, princess."

Harry's eyes opened more and moved up to see the man's blurry face. M. Burg had a round face, a five o'clock shadow, and black and gray frizzy hair. He gave Harry an insensitive and apathetic smile.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" M. Burg asked. He moved his hand from Harry's jaw and grabbed Harry's hair so he could force Harry to look in a certain direction. Then he held up a few fingers right in front of Harry's face.

Harry tried focusing on the fingers, but his eyes kept shifting out of focus and shutting against his will. He dropped his mouth open and squint at the fingers, willing himself to answer the simple question.

"Th-three," he slurred, dropping his mouth open as soon as he'd answered it.

"Very good," M. Burg said happily, releasing Harry's head--it fell to his chest. "Can you stand yet?"

The two men on either side of Harry relaxed their grip on him, but Harry's knees buckled and he dropped, only to be caught just before he hit the floor.

"Okay," M. Burg said. "I should tell you," he continued in his almost jovial tone, "that you're in Vincula now. You'll be staying with us until you're old and wrinkly and won't remember how to cast a simple spell. You're nearly twenty-four, so if you live out your sentence, which has happened before so there is hope, you'll be one-hundred and seventy-four years old when you leave. Now come on," he said walking away, "let's get you processed and settled in."

Harry tried resisting, but he was still too weak to even keep his head up. The two men holding him drug him as they followed M. Burg. Harry couldn't see the walls, only the floor, which was made of large, shiny dark tiles. Then they seemed to be turning him left into some kind of office where people were chattering. They became silent when Harry entered.

"Our newest guest is still coming to," Burg said loudly to whoever was in this room. Harry wasn't even sure how large or small the room was. But the room was cool on his strangely warm face. Finally Harry was dropped into a hard chair and his head lulled back so he could see around him.

The room was ordinary. There were fake windows around the square office depicting sunny and cloudless skies. There was a receptionist, which was strange to have in a prison, and a few other people who looked busy. At the moment, however, they were all staring at Harry.

Then Burg grabbed Harry's hand and started pushing his individual fingertips in a strange ink, then pushing them onto a slip of paper. Harry swallowed. "They did that already," he said slowly, managing not to slur this time.

"That's for them, this is for us," Burg answered. Someone else started pressing Harry's other set of fingers into ink and then paper. They finished with him shortly. "Time for a picture now. Be sure to smile," Burg said with a chuckle. Harry managed to give him a dirty look, which was childish, he knew, but it was something. Once the fingerprints were filed away, they drug him to a wall, pushed him against it, and gave him a name plate to hold. Harry had to lean against the wall to keep from slipping forward and falling flat on his face.

"Say cheese!" Burg said gleefully as he took the picture. Harry closed his eyes when the flash went off, then dropped the plate and gave Burg the finger. Burg chuckled again and had Harry seized and led off to yet another room.

This room was full of filing cabinets and cubby shelves. Harry was escorted to the main counter.

"Time to remove your belongings," Burg said, looking down at Harry's rings. "You'll get them back when you leave in the next century."

Harry shook his head. "No," he simpered. "You can't."

"Rules, Potter," Burg answered flatly. "Take off the band, the Auror ring, and that, is that a cross? Wow, never figured you'd be a religious guy. How do you feel about your God now, eh?" Burg picked up a small envelope, opened it, and waited for Harry to remove his things. "Come on, now. Give."

Harry looked down at his wedding ring, which he'd put back on just yesterday--he saw Audrey's grinning face flash before his mind. He pulled it off, then his Auror ring, which stood for nothing now; he yanked the glass cross from his neck, snapping the nylon rope, and gave it to Burg with his two rings.

"And the rubber band you've got around your wrist. Whatever the hell that is, I need it."

Harry looked at it. "You can't have this."

"And why's that? We've been over this before, Potter. Hand it over."

Harry shook his head and felt his eyes burn again. "No. My daughter gave it to me. It's her kiss," he whispered as he ran his finger over it.

Burg sighed and put out his hand. "Sentimental or not, you have to give it to me. Please hurry, my shift ends when I put you away."

Harry stared to breathe heavily as he looked at it.

"You either remove it, or I'll cut it off and toss it away. Get me?" he asked.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled it off his wrist and handed it to Burg.

"Good. Now you're a tall kid, but small across the middle. Broad shoulders, too." He looked Harry up and down and pulled some clothes, dark gray in color, from a shelf. "Should be your size. Go on and change now," he said. "We're all men here."

Harry undid the fastening of his cloak, tossed it at Burg, then proceeded to undress then redress in the Vincula uniforms. They fit loosely and reminded Harry of Dudley's old clothes.

"All right," Burg said, clapping his hands together. "We're ready now. Follow me, Potter."

Harry didn't have a choice whether he followed the insensitive screw-ball or not. He was once more escorted by force down a very wide hallway. The floor was shiny and dark here as well. There were a few strange lights floating along the tall hallway, zooming past the bare walls. But what was strange was the absence of doors. There was only one door, an open one, to the right just a few meters away.

"Where's everyone else?" Harry asked.

Burg smiled and knocked on the solid walls as he walked down the hall. "The doors seal up into the wall and don't open again until the sentence is over, or until there's a dead body in there," he said lightly.

Harry felt as if someone had socked him in the gut. "What if--"

"No what ifs," Burg said. When they came to the door, they walked inside immediately. Harry expected and wanted to warm into it, but no one cared what he wanted anymore. The cell was ten by twelve feet and not as bare as Harry thought it would be. There was a twin size bed in one corner, a toilet in another corner, and the rest was free space. The cell was certainly taller than he'd expected and on one wall there was a ticking clock which also displayed the date.

"Over here," Burg started as he walked to a corner, "is your dispenser. At eight, twelve, and six, you're food will pop up here," he said, motioning at the solid wall. "Each day at seven in the evening, it will open up again giving you fresh clothes and expecting you to give it the old ones. If you miss any of these times, it will disappear and you'll have to wait for the next time around. Lights," he said, signaling to the ceiling where there was no visible source of light, but it was bright. "Lights go out at eight each night, and come back on at six in the morning. Now, what else," he said looking around. "Oh, showers. You get to shower each night, after you've given your clothes and gotten your fresh ones. Water comes on over in the same corner as the dispenser at seven each evening. And once a week, the dispenser gives you new bedding in exchange for the old ones. On, about the bedding. It's impossible to choke yourself with sheets, and there's no place to hang yourself from. Suicide is impossible. Any questions?" he asked.

Harry looked around the small space. "What if I have an aneurysm or a heart attack or something?" he asked.

"You won't," Burg said with a grin. "At least not a heart attack. Aneurysm, I'm not so sure about, but it'd kill you, no doubt. I'd imagine that you'd welcome one of those after a few years in here. So if that's it, we'll be leaving you now. If you're still alive when your sentence ends, then someone will come to get you. Probably won't be me, though." He turned with his two guards and went to leave. None of them turned around to watch Harry or even say goodbye, they just shut the door and were gone. And Burg was right. The cracks of the door disappeared into the rest of the wall, as if they're had never been a door at all.

Harry wasn't sure how much time passed as he stood there, facing the once-door. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing and the noise of his saliva going down his throat when he swallowed. But that was it. Eventually he turned his head to examine the room. 

The walls were smooth and gray. There weren't any cracks, mortar, or small holes, or any sign of character in them. The bed was fit with cold gray sheets which were a shade darker than his current and permanent apparel. There was no mirror, no sink, no window, and no possibility of escape.

He still couldn't believe this was real. He looked down at himself and ran his hands down his strange new clothes. They weren't uncomfortable; the fabric was soft and loose. But hey were too big for him, yet tight around his shoulders. He grabbed the sleeves and tugged at them until they pulled off the seams with a loud _rip_. The air inside wasn't cold--it wasn't warm. It just…was.

He shuffled to his bed in his floppy shoes and sat down. Not even the bed creaked.

"All alone again," Leucosia said from his side.

But Harry didn't whirl around to face her. His heart rate didn't increase. He wasn't short of breath. He remained calm and unconcerned for what she had to say. What else could she possibly do to him now? Why should he continue to fear her?

"I told you this would happen," she went on.

Harry still didn't look. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing his miserable face. Leucosia walked to stand in front of him. "They do not know the real value of you," she said with a smile as she bent down to look into his eyes. "But I do, Harry."

Harry raised his eyes from the floor to look into hers. "What now?" he asked her dully as if he were annoyed by her presence.

She smiled snidely. "What would you like?"

Harry considered her question for a moment and frowned. "I'd like it if you'd stop playing mind games. I'd like it if you didn't treat me like a play thing. I'd like it if you showed your face to the world to prove I'm not 'delusional,' " he said flatly. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders as he stared.

"Fair enough," she said.

Harry's shoulders re-tensed. "What?" he asked, convinced it was one of her tricks.

"Oh, you really should not anticipate anything happening quite so soon, but all you ask will come in due time. But I will stop the mind games with you, I promise, though it will detract from my main entertainment venue. There are some things, however, that I will not be able to oblige you. Escape, for one, security, the other. But I will give you happiness, Harry, should you choose correctly," she said with a serious tone.

Harry folded his hands and shook his head. "I'm not evil."

"No," she said, "you are not. No one is born evil. One requires the proper development, the correct nurturing, or lack thereof, and encouragement to see what and who they really are. You see, I would not have been quite so interested in you had you not killed for revenge. Not one thought entered your mind when you killed, only pain and anger."

Harry didn't look up at her but tightened his grip on his own fingers. 

"That kind of sin is understandable, right Harry?" she asked. "Your friends did not and still will not tell the truth, will they? Humans are a strange species. It is permissible to kill in one circumstance, but wrong in the other?"

"But I wasn't thinking then," Harry said. "And the man I killed murdered Mrs. Weasley. I killed the enemy who had killed my best friend's mother. There are differences between war and peacetimes, Leucosia. I will not kill innocents just for the sake of your amusement."

"You would not have to," she said softly as she stood. "No one needs to die. But do not lie to me. I know you enjoyed killing that Death Eater so many years ago. You had to have enjoyed it for the spell to work. Death is so powerful and murder even more so. A life of possibilities," she said waving her hand, "wiped out by your own hand. You took pleasure in it."

Harry stood up now so he could look down on her. "I didn't."

"Fine," she said with a smile, "I will give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I don't want to see you again," Harry said at last standing up to her. "Leave me alone. Just leave me to rot in peace."

Leucosia started to pace around but didn't answer him.

"Frankly you're starting to annoy me," Harry said. "You can't scare me, you can't threaten me, and you can't hurt me because you're as solid as a ghost. That and the way you talk is just…" he sighed and rolled his eyes. "You could say whatever you wanted to say in half the time if you weren't trying so hard to sound impressive and intimidating."

Leucosia continued to pace, moving her head like a mantis as she watched him. "You think you have me figured?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"You're not a delusion of mine, that's for sure. You need me because you can't do anything in this reality. You need me on your side because you can't beat me. I'm sure you're familiar with the expression, 'if you can't beat them, join them.' That's what you want from me. You want my power, because I have it in droves. The public hasn't even seen the kind of power I possess, and neither have you. You're immune to it, aren't you? I can't invade your mind, I can't astound you with my superior physicality, and I can't impress you with wand work or telekinetic abilities. Why is that? Oh, that's right," Harry said mockingly, "every time I've seen you it's been on _your_ terms, when _I'm_ at the disadvantage. You're not as mighty as you think you are, Leucosia. Sure you have a fancy name, you're beautiful, and you have a great grasp on the simplicity of humanity, but when it comes right down to it, you're nothing."

But Leucosia did not seem greatly affected. Instead her smile widened to a toothy grin. "Nothing?" she asked.

"That's what I said. You think you sound more 'evil' if you take everything I say and turn it into a question?" he asked, bearing down on her.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me. You are currently located in Vincula, an inescapable prison. You were found guilty of conspiracy to murder and as leader of my Black Order. You know why, Harry? Your public abandoned you. I will not."

"I won't take your offer," Harry said again.

Leucosia stared at him for a few seconds, then let out an echoing laugh which sent a chill down his spine.

"I said I would offer it again, but I have not offered it to you yet, have I? You think that is the reason I stand before you now?" She shook her head and made a clucking sound in her throat as she shook her finger at him. "Remember what I said about assumptions? Dangerous assumptions, Harry. I believe you assume far too much to be safe. You think I cannot hurt you, now? Dangerous. You think I am powerless in this dimension? Dangerous. You think I cannot cause you physical pain in this reality? Well, we shall wait and see. I would advise you to be more skeptical, Harry. And never assume. Good day to you," she said with a nod, then vanished from his sight.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed as he fell back on his new bed. He opened his eyes to stare at his gray ceiling and listen to the sounds of his mind.

**

At first Harry considered it a benefit that the prison allowed him to know exactly what date and time it was, down to the millisecond. This way he wouldn't have to add the days in his head to the point of going insane. But when July the seventh rolled around and his red clock struck 4:07:18 in the evening, he was sure the clock was a new form of torture. Instead of thinking he'd been inside for a long while, he knew that he had only endured a few weeks.

He would be twenty-four years old in twenty-four days. He would know when Dana was celebrating her fourth birthday without him, or when Audrey would hit the big three-zero. And he wouldn't be there. He would be alone again for Christmas, his family celebrating without him. Audrey had lost a second husband and Dana had lost a second father. It was a pointless yet difficult loss for all of them.

The monotony and routine living was making him crazy, or so he believed. He had never been a "social butterfly" who would constantly need attention. On the contrary, he would sometimes seek solitude. But this was beyond loneliness. For days he didn't even get out of bed. This way he made his own noise; his stomach would grumble almost constantly from hunger. He would look over at the dispenser, watch his food appear then disappear a few minutes later. Harry's eyes would roll back to that gray ceiling and glaze over as he practiced not thinking.

When the lights came on the next morning, Harry lay awake staring at his gray ceiling, contemplating whether or not he could turn the lights off with his mind. After a few hours of deep concentration toward his new objective he fell back asleep and missed his lunch. He couldn't take starving himself for another day. It had to be one of the worst ways to slowly kill yourself, starving. He was determined not to miss his dinner so he rose out of bed and paced around the cell waiting like a hungry lion.

By the eleventh of July, Harry's unspent energy was finally getting to him. Harry flipped over his bed, pulled the mattress out of its metal bed frame, and pushed the frame up against the wall, enabling him to use it for pull-ups. Harry had to tuck his legs behind him so he could hang properly, then pulled himself to the bar, then controlled himself as he went back down. There was really no point in counting how many he did. What was he going to do, brag to the other prisoners with how many pull-ups he could do? He figured he did over fifty, at least it felt like over fifty. His biceps were burning all night long and were sore the next morning. But he didn't stop exercising.

He would stand on one side of the cell, push off the wall, and sprint to the other side of the cell. When he reached the other side, he would run on the wall then flip backwards and end up on the floor again. He did this until he was too tired. Next, Harry took deep cleansing breaths and concentrated on standing on his hands. He had never been able to do this before. It's not that he lacked the strength for it, he just lost balance each and ever time. Now was no different. Harry attempted the maneuver fifteen times, each resulting in a loud fall, before telling himself he'd try it again the next day.

He resumed his pull-ups. But Harry's physique wasn't as scrawny as it had once been. The main bar suddenly gave way from his weight and snapped. The shift in balance caused the frame to fall backwards. Instead of preventing himself from falling, as he probably would have done in a normal and free circumstance, he fell with the frame and hit the floor with a painful thud. It felt like the back of his head took most of plunge. When Harry opened his eyes, tiny stars were zooming toward the center of his vision, but vanished when they got there. He rolled over from his back to his stomach and rubbed the back of his head. Now the floor was strangely cold to his skin and he wasn't sure why. But it was icy and he stayed there.

He stayed there for two days straight, his rough face to the floor, his dull and empty eyes staring at where the door used to be. He would blink when he had too, but he didn't want to. When the lights went out and the cell was a black box, Harry kept his eyes open until his eyes watered. For some reason it was the only way he could cry. No one had really seen him cry, save Doctor Simon who caught him when he was on drugs in the hospital. Not even Audrey had seen him cry. She'd seen him well up with tears, but she had never seen a drop drip down his face. No one really had.

It wasn't that he never cried. He remembered how it felt when he heard his mother trying to save him when the Dementors were near, and he cried for her. He cried for Sirius after he'd been murdered by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. But no one had seen him do it. He was sure Hermione and Ron suspected him of it, but they never asked if he had. When Mrs. Weasley had been murdered, Harry used the Marauder's Map to find a secret location to hide in and wept for her in secrecy. He didn't even cry at her funeral. In fact, as he lay on the cold floor in the pitch black, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had truly seen him shed a tear, when he wasn't under the influence of some kind of drug. He knew crying wasn't a sign of weakness, he knew it wasn't against masculinity to cry, he just wouldn't, and perhaps couldn't, shed a tear with company.

Harry eventually fell asleep that night. He was only aware of it when he had a strange dream that didn't make sense to him right away. In his dream he sat cross-legged in his cell, as if meditating, and a strange clear box was falling off the ceiling and walls. In the next instant he was sitting in a strange living room and Audrey handed him a photo album.

"Can you see me?" she asked. Harry opened up the album and saw the picture of his parent's wedding day with Sirius as the best man.

"You're right in front of me," Harry said to Audrey.

She giggled and smiled at him. "I always will be."

Then when he thought it couldn't get stranger, Hermione ran into the room wearing a white nightgown with boxing gloves on her hands. She jogged around the room repeatedly, not even noticing that Harry was there.

Harry looked down at the photo album again. "We're the wind in your face, Harry," Sirius said from the photo. "Can't you feel us? Can't you feel us? Won't you feel us?"

Harry shut the book and threw it across the room, hitting Hermione in the head as she jogged past. She didn't seem distracted.

"Come back to me," Dana said from his right side as she tugged at his sleeve. "Come back to me. Don't leave me."

Harry shook his head at her then looked back at Audrey, who was now sitting on his lap, running her hands up and down his chest. Boxing gloves fell between them, and Hermione was massaging his shoulders. Frowning, Harry looked up at her, then she kissed him longingly---

All was black again. He wasn't sure if he was sleeping, or if he was awake and the lights hadn't come back on. 

Then a small, purple light floated toward him from where the door used to be. He could feel his heart thump against his ribcage as the light came closer to him. It came to a stop in front of his face and danced before him, bobbing up and down. Harry turned his head away, but the light followed him and bobbed before his eyes, just in front of his nose, lighting his face with a soft purple hue. 

Harry tried to swat it away, but it only moved then returned to his nose. When Harry felt his hand hit the floor, he was sure it wasn't a dream. This was strangely real. Harry put his arms underneath him and pushed himself off the floor. The small purple light followed his movement. Crouched on all fours, Harry watched the little ball of light. 

It bobbled away from him and zoomed around his head, so fast it made Harry dizzy. Then it shot to one corner of the cell, setting a dim purple light on the walls, and zipped up and down in an oval like fashion. Yes, that's what it was doing. It was making a distinct oval shape, tall and wide enough for Harry to step into it. It sped up so fast that it didn't look like one little purple ball of light, but a beam of light shaped like a tall oval.

Suddenly the center of the oval burst with light so bright Harry had to shield his eyes. When he looked back his jaw dropped.

It was as if vertical purple water had filled the oval. The wavy substance reflected Harry's astounded image, yet didn't make a rippling sound as water would. Harry had never seen nor heard of anything like what he saw before him. Still watching whatever it was, Harry pinched his arm only to find that it really hurt. He approached the anomaly.

The rippling seemed to increase as he closed distance. Harry reached out his hand, held it before the thing hesitantly, then touched it. It didn't feel like anything at all, but the substance calmed as he touched it. When he pulled his hand back, it rippled wildly.

Heart hammering, Harry looked around his cell. The worst thing that could happen would be this thing eating him alive. The alternative was to live in his cell for one-hundred and fifty years and go insane. It wasn't a hard decision to make.

Taking a huge breath, Harry closed his eyes and walked inside the anomaly. At first he felt nothing, then it was as if his body were being pulled every which direction. Harry eyes shut tighter and he pulled his arms into his chest. But then it was over.

Harry fell face first on the ground, which was not smooth or even, but grainy and bumpy. His chest contracted and forced him to cough, which sent dust on his face. Harry opened his eyes to see a reddish brown floor, made of dirt and rocks, some of which was all over his hands, arms, and chest. Then he heard voices. _Voices!_

Slowly, Harry raised his head level with the ground. He saw three pairs of shiny black boots. He continued to raise his head. He viewed three pairs of knees, three pairs of thighs, three stomachs, and finally a familiar face. The middle person was shorter than her two companions, and thin. A woman. An Indian woman with a falcon perched on her shoulder. Harry frowned as he stared at her.

"Hello, young Harry," she said in an Indian accent with a hint of a smile. "Welcome to the International Wizard Bureau of Investigation."

Harry raised his eyes to the other two wizard's faces, but didn't focus on them. He was more fascinated by the dingy cave he was in now. Behind the three wizards who stood in front of him were a few legless tables with papers on top of them. Harry looked back to the Indian woman who had visited him once in St. Mungo's and scowled.

"Well, the IWBI was once impressive," she said dismissively with the wave of her hand. She nodded to the man on her right and he threw a blanket on top of Harry then helped him to his feet.

"What?" Harry asked as he looked around. Now that he was standing he noted that the cave was really quite small and cramped. But what was confusing him most was that he _was in_ a cave and not Vincula. "How--?"

The woman smiled and walked toward him. "Sorry it took us so long," she said, adjusting his blanket so it covered him better. "It took a while to purchase you a house the Muggle way, not to mention skirting past the security in Vincula to give you a portal."

Harry squinted at her with his mouth halfway open.

"You're not in prison anymore, Harry," she said.

"You saw me a few months ago in St. Mungo's," Harry said as he pointed his finger at her.

She nodded shortly. "Small world, isn't it?" she asked. "I had an inkling you would need me at some point, and need me you did."

"Wh-Who are you?" he asked, as he tightened his grip on the blanket. It was drafty in here.

"Ashika Narayan," she said, thrusting out her hand toward his. "Director of the IWBI. I couldn't tell you before, you understand. No one knows that we still exist."

"Uh huh," he said absentmindedly as he shook her hand. She pulled her hand out of his then dismissed her two comrades, who walked down a passage he hadn't noticed before. Then suddenly questions started to pop up in his mind.

"Hang on," he said, scowling again, "why am I here?"

Ashika Narayan crossed her arms and took a few steps backwards. "The world is small, should your mission fail," she said, jogging his memory of her. "Let's just say that the moment I heard the guilty verdict, I realized that Leucosia was winning. Everything you said she said has come true, so I know she's real. But you can't be the hero if you're locked up, now can you?"

"You believe me?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she said shortly. 

"But the jury--"

"Was full of mindless fools who know nothing of life's little complexities, especially those concerning the human mind. The prosecution wasn't banking on a guilty verdict. Auferre was a junior attorney who was being paid double to prosecute you. He's in financial trouble, so he felt compelled to take the money. As for that jury, well, mindless fools, Harry. Mindless fools."

Harry nodded absentmindedly again. "So this is the IWBI?" he asked. "I thought it was out of commission."

She gave him a funny sort of smile and started to walk toward a passage and expected him to walk beside her. "It was. Our original location was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, close to the island of Oahu. Late 1981 it was infiltrated by Voldemort's Death Eaters and successfully self destructed, destroying all records. Not too long after that I decided to start it up again, and here we are. These caves are under the Sierra Nevada mountain range in the western United States. Welcome to the new world, Harry."

The dark passage opened up to a larger cave, though it was still small for a secret agency. There were about five or six wizards in this cave, all speaking different languages to someone unseen. On one side of the cave was a large map of the world. 

"We maintain secrecy by having such a small number of employees. Since the destruction of our last building, I've been more careful with who I select to work here. Kim Philby used to be my second in Counterintelligence. Guy Burgess worked as a historian in the Intelligence sector. Now they're both part of the Black Order, which is what first peaked my interest. Neither of them is the most powerful of dark wizards, but they are clever." She escorted him down another dark passage which led to a few separate small caves, which appeared to function as offices.

"So all of this," Harry said, waving his hand around, "is completely confidential?"

"Completely. There are some rumors that we've started up again, but no one knows for sure."

"Right," Harry said. "What exactly do you do?" he asked.

"We're the wizard equivalent of MI-6 or the US's CIA. At least that's what I want. We try to have our hands in everything that's going on, magic wise, in the world. Your case affects the 'magical race,' so it concerned me. As to what I do personally, I'm simply overseeing everything that's done here. And I pay everyone."

"Right," Harry said again. "And how am I here?" he asked, pointing his finger at his chest.

Ashika smiled again and led Harry into an office where a portly man with black and gray frizzy hair was seated at his desk. He saw Harry and beamed, then rolled out from his desk and waved at Harry.

"Hey princess," M. Burg said to him.

Mouth open again, Harry stared.

"This is Morris Burg. You probably recognize him. You'll find that I often have employees most everywhere. Morris is my man at Vincula. Haden is my man at Azkaban. I have a professor at Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Drumstrang, the Salem Institute, and Ontario's Academy. One of the Healers at St. Mungo's works for me, as well as Healers all over the world. It's taken a while, and it's still taking time, but eventually I'll have all my old resources back. It's safe to say that I can see a lot that goes on in this small world of ours."

"So this guy," Harry said, pointing at Morris, "helped break me out?"

"He's the only one who knew exactly where your cell was. They often move around for security reasons, but he knew which one you were in. The portal was sent to you by someone else, but Morris was the main one on this."

Morris stood up and walked to Harry to shake his hand. "It's an honor to meet you," he said.

"Okay," Harry said, his hand limp.

"Spitting image," Burg said to himself as he went back to work. Harry would've liked to have inquired, but Ashika led him away. It seemed as if they were walking deeper down into the mountain, as it became quite dark. The passages were lined with torches to light their winding way.

"If we used too much magic to make this place look nice," she said as if reading his mind, "the American Ministry would be onto us."

"Oh," he said. He kept following her deeper down into the cave. "You said before that you'd met me, or something. But I can't remember you at all."

"I'm sure Starling would help you remember if you wanted," she said routinely as she walked into an empty cave with a door at one end. "Each memory is recorded, Harry, you only need to learn how to access them." She sighed a little. "The last time I saw you," she said turning to face him, "you stood not two feet from the ground and were trying to eat large crayons."

"You saw me when I was…"

"About fourteen months old, equipped with three words and a wobbly walk."

"You knew my--"

"Yes I did. Actually, Morris was saved by dear daddy quite a few years ago, before you were born. See how small our world is?" she asked with a smile. She walked toward the door at the other end of the cave and beckoned him toward her. "Obviously you can't stay here for however long it takes us to find and destroy Leucosia, so I've purchased a house for you in a small community in Northern California. It's a very cloistered community so no one should ask about you or even talk about you."

But Harry stopped walking toward her. Something suddenly hit him that hadn't really occurred to him before, and he wasn't sure why. 

"No," he said slowly.

"No what?" she asked curtly.

Harry shook his head and looked around. "I'm not going to," he said darkly. He furrowed his brow as he thought and examined her aggressive face. He thought it best to elaborate. "I don't care what you say about them, I really don't. Auferre has financial problems, that's _his_ problem. Mindless fools or not, the jury still convicted me. The judges passed a sentence on me lasting for 150 years. And I didn't do anything wrong. So I won't help them again," he said coolly. "They're all selfish, scared, and blind. I'm tired of being the victim, and it's happened to me more than once. I'm only out of that hellhole because you got me out. But my public, the people who used to praise me and stand in awe of me, put me in prison. I won't help them, not now and not again. They're on their own."

Ashika re-crossed her arms and nodded her head. "I don't blame you," she said. "I half expected you to say that. But you should take pity on your public. They were hoodwinked, Harry. You know the truth. It is your responsibility, in knowing the truth, to stop Leucosia. You're the only one with the power to do so, and she knows it. You were built for it, you were born for it, so you _will_ do it. Having such knowledge and power makes you responsible, whether you like it or not. I have been around for a very long time and I have seen some horrendous sights. Murder and cruelty are part of the world and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to put an end to it. But there are some things worth fighting for. And you _will_ fight."

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think I will," he said firmly, unaware that his eyebrows were pulled down into an angry scowl. "I quit. I thank you for freeing me, but I'm quitting the heroic business. It's about time I had a vacation from it. It's time for _me_ to be selfish. My whole life has been hell and misery and I'm tired of it!"

"Cry me a river!" Ashika hissed, advancing on him.

Harry stepped back in shock but Ashika continued her advance.

"Poor pitiful you," she said acidly, her eyes like slits. "Well, I don't care that you were mistreated as a child. It wasn't my fault, it was Dumbledore and the Dursley's fault. If you still take issue with your horrid treatment, then you take it out on who was responsible for it. If you still have a problem that needs addressing after all these years, go address it with Dumbledore and the people who mistreated you, but don't come crying to me about it!

"As to your hardships with Voldemort, you were born with an innate power no wizard can match, so Voldemort rightly felt threatened. He knew you could kill him, so he tried killing you. You dealt with him in good time. 

"Is it my fault or the public's fault that Sirius Black was murdered? Who's to blame for Molly Weasley's murder? Is it my fault that you were lonely and heartbroken during your young adult life? You are a fighter," she said strongly. 

"You were meant to fight, and if you don't, _then_ you'll be miserable. Each person was given something, Harry. Whether you're happy with it or not, you are a fighter. You're violent, strong, and in most circumstances brave. What you are is who you're meant to be. You have the power to stop evil in its tracks and so you will. If you don't fulfill your purpose in life, that's between you and life, isn't it? You think Voldemort was the first and last wizard you would defeat? Grow up. Stop acting like a scared little boy and grow into a man. Bad things happen and will continue to happen. The way to deal with them is not to castigate the world because you suffered!" she yelled.

Harry took a few steps back and stared at her in awe. He watched her eyes teeter back and forth as she looked into his own eyes. "And what kind of hell did you live through?" he asked her.

Ashika broke eye contact and walked back to the door, grabbed the handle, twisted it, and walked inside. Harry followed. 

The moment he was through the door, however, he was nearly tackled to the ground by a sobbing woman with short dark hair.

"Harry!" she sobbed into his ear, squeezing him so tight he was losing oxygen. Then he felt Dana hit him in the legs as she clutched on.

"Oxygen becoming an issue," Harry uttered.

Audrey pulled back a little, but didn't release him. Her entire face was red and puffy, her eyes were bloodshot and full of tears, yet she was beaming. "I thought--" she hyperventilated, "I--wouldn't--see you--again," she said, hugging him once more. Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her.

"Same here," he said to her. He grinned and shut his eyes as he held her, that balloon of happiness welling up inside him again. Audrey calmed down quickly and started to breathe normally. Dana was now tugging on Harry's pants for attention, so he released his wife and scooped up Dana, who giggled with glee.

"She asked about you every day," Audrey said, wiping her face with the backs of her sleeves. 

Harry kissed Dana's cheeks several times, causing her to giggle and squirm. "I missed you," he said to her, ruffling her hair with his hand.

"Thank you," Audrey said to Ashika, who was standing quietly in a corner. "Thank you so much for giving him back to us."

Harry turned to look at Ashika, but she was heading for the door. "What are secret agencies for?" she said snidely.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Harry asked her tentatively, now feeling guilty for what he'd said to her after all she'd done for him. 

"You have a small two bedroom house waiting for you. You can get there by the floo network if you'll follow me." She turned back around and headed toward a fireplace then ignited it.

"Won't they be watching?" Harry asked.

"No," she said simply. "They think you're still in prison."

Harry nodded to himself. "Right," he said. "So what's the address?"

"2424 Coronado Street. It's already programmed for the correct town and state." She turned around with her arms crossed and stared into Harry's eyes as Audrey prepared Dana for the journey.

"Thank you," Harry said to her.

But she didn't respond to him. She narrowed her dark eyes at him, walked backwards, then made for a turn and walked out of the cave without a word. Harry kept staring at the exit she had taken, but was pulled around as Audrey hugged him again, giggling happily in his ear. "I missed you," she said, squeezing him tighter. "Oh how I missed you." 

Harry smiled and sighed when he heard those words. 

Their new home was better than fine. It was on a solitary hill side with few houses around it, with a view of a lake out the large back windows. 

"Wow," Audrey said as she walked to the windows for a closer look. "It's beautiful," she said. Harry picked up Dana, who rest her head on his shoulders and yawned, then stood beside Audrey. "That woman can sure pick a nice location."

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

Audrey looked for a clock and found one on the stove. "Nine at night. We're eight hours behind here. We should put her to bed," she said nodding toward Dana. Audrey started down the hallway and found the smaller of the two bedrooms and walked inside. The bed was small enough for Dana, who when placed in it and covered with blankets, fell asleep almost immediately.

"She's had a long day," Audrey whispered as she shut Dana's door. "So have I."

Harry walked across the hall into their bedroom and sat on the bed. "What's happened since I left?" he asked her.

"Well," Audrey said as she sat beside him, "not too much. A week after the trial, Ashika Narayan came to me and told me they were working on a way to free you. It kept me from crying myself to sleep every night and allowed me to live properly for Dana. But other than that, Harry, not much has happened. The Black Order hasn't made any attacks and _The Daily Prophet_ stopped talking about you. Everything calmed down."

Harry nodded and fell backwards on the bed, which felt soft and cool to his skin. He shut his eyes and sighed again. Audrey laid beside him and rested her head on his chest.

"I'm not tired," Harry said, snapping his eyes open.

He could feel Audrey smiling. "No?" she asked as she caressed his chest with her right hand.

"No," he said. "I haven't been tired in a while, actually."

"Mmm," she mumbled. She propped herself up a little and looked into his eyes. "You know you have a slight beard going on, don't you?" she asked.

Harry put his hand to his face and felt his chin. "Actually I hadn't noticed," he said.

Audrey smiled again. "I like it." She swung leg to his other side to straddle him and intertwined her fingers with his. "I like it a lot," she whispered, sliding both their hands across the bed so she could lower herself to kiss him.

"That works out," he said. "I'm not going to do anything about it tonight." He couldn't help but give a sly smile as she continued to kiss him. But she suddenly pulled away from him and frowned.

"Where's your ring?" she asked.

"They took everything on me and stuffed it away in some tiny envelope," Harry said quickly. "It wasn't my choice."

"Can you get it back?"

"That would look a little suspicious if my stuff wasn't there, but I suppose I could ask," he said, hoping that made her happy.

She nodded. "Okay," she said. But she didn't seem eased. "Harry?" she said.

"What?" he asked. He hoped she wouldn't want to talk long.

"Tell me you love me," she said.

Harry wasn't sure why she wanted him to say that. It seemed a little insecure of her to demand that of him, but if she wanted to hear it…

"I love you," he said, looking into her eyes.

She smiled deviously then pulled his shirt over his head, threw it somewhere, then picked his glasses off his face.

Harry gave a throaty yet subtle laugh, then wrapped his arms around her back and pulled himself up to kiss her lips. She giggled a bit and ran her fingers through his hair… (And from previous experience, you know I leave private matters, well, private.)

**

The following morning was treated more like the first day of a honeymoon on a tropical island instead of a limited existence clothed in secrecy. Dana had found the television and was watching cartoons and a show with puppets known as "Sesame Street," while her parents spent the morning with each other. Dana didn't mind watching Big Bird or Elmo, and Harry silently thanked Ashika for providing a form of entertainment for the youngster so he could have some 'alone' time with Audrey. But all good things had to come to an end, and by ten that morning Sesame Street was over and annoying infomercials raided the television. With blanket in hand, Dana walked down to her parents bedroom and pushed the door open.

"Mummy!" she called out, shuffling inside. There was a clambering in the bathroom then moments later Audrey came spilling out with a towel around her, her hair dripping water on the carpet.

"What is it, sweetie?" she asked, wiping her face with the edge of her gray towel.

"I'm hungwry," Dana answered, pulling her shirt up to point at her stomach.

"Okay. I'll come out to make breakfast pretty soon. Why don't you go watch the tele," Audrey said, pushing Dana out of the room.

Dana walked back down the hall in a very dramatic fashion, but Audrey didn't watch her long. She dried herself quickly then threw on some clothes in case Dana came back in. 

"I'm making breakfast," she said, hammering her fist on the bathroom door.

There was no immediate answer, but then the door opened and Harry pulled Audrey inside, attacking her neck with his lips. At first she laughed, but then she pulled back and lightly punched his shoulder.

"Now I'm wet," she said, examining her shirt. She looked back at his smiling face and burst out laughing. For some reason Harry looked like a young boy just then. He wasn't wearing his glasses, his face with smooth again, his hair was wet and drooped down into his eyes, and the towel hung about his waist in a juvenile fashion. But most of all it was that playful look that danced about his eyes and smile as he watched her.

She pulled him to her and kissed him for possibly the hundredth time that morning, laughing happily when she felt him smiling.

"Get dressed," she told him as she walked backwards out of the bathroom, enabling her to gaze at him for as long as possible.

The remainder of the day was spent happily, as if Harry had never been convicted for such sinister crimes. Harry wrestled on the floor with Dana, who was elated that Harry had returned from his trip. The two played like youngsters for hours at a time until Dana got very cranky and was put down for a nap by Audrey.

It wasn't until later that evening that the family was given a visit by the Director of the IWBI, Ashika Narayan. She entered the home as if she'd lived there and made herself comfortable on a chair so she could talk with Harry. 

"So," she began stiffly, surveying Harry with her dark eyes, "how are you?" she forced out.

Harry sat down opposite her and nodded. "Fine," he replied.

"Tell me more about Leucosia," she demanded, withdrawing a pen and parchment from her robes.

Harry rolled his eyes and bit his lip as he watched her.

"Problem?" Ashika asked as she stared back at him.

"I thought you watched my sessions with Doctor Simon," Harry said. 

"I did," she said flatly, her pen poised and ready to write.

"I told him everything about her."

"Yes, but wouldn't you agree that a lot of time has passed since March?" she asked.

Harry swallowed and rolled his eyes again. "Yeah," Harry answered reluctantly.

"Then we're on the same page," Ashika said. "The difference between Simon and me is that Simon thought you were a raving lunatic while I believe you. I don't need to know about Leucosia's first encounter with you, only what has been happening more recently. I need to develop a profile on her."

Harry admitted to himself that she was right, though he didn't dare tell her. She had freed him from prison, reunited him with his family, and believed every word he said. Why shouldn't he comply with her wishes?

"Well I've seen her twice since I broke out of St. Mungo's," he said. "Once in my flat on May fourth, then again while I was in Vincula on June fifth. I haven't seen her since."

Ashika wrote down the two dates then pressed him to continue.

"I think it would be easier if you asked me questions," Harry added.

"All right," she remarked. She pulled out a stack of papers and flipped through them quickly. "These are the records I have so far on you and her. I'm interested in her riddles, to be quite frank." She looked up at him and raised both her eyebrows as if encouraging him to speak. 

But Harry didn't really know what to tell her. "Riddles?" he asked.

"Yes," Ashika said. "It seems as if she's giving you clues to what she'll do next. What's interesting is your inability or lack of interest in actually solving them. She told you that you'd be found guilty of something, which you were. She told you she could undermine public opinion, which she did, and would take control of you, which she's done."

"She hasn't done that," Harry insisted, his voice level rising.

"Not yet," Ashika said. "She's offered you a chance to rule, Harry. Tell me, honestly, that you're not interested."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but found that he couldn't. He had to admit that the prospect, especially when considering recent events, wasn't so horrible. "That woman is evil," he said finally.

"But you, like many others, are tempted by supreme power?" she asked. "It's quite common to want power, Harry."

"I know that, but she nearly killed me to get my attention, she put me in prison, and she convinced people that I'm mentally unstable and insane!" he yelled. He looked down the hall to see if Audrey would come and scold him for yelling in the house while Dana was supposedly sleeping, but luckily she didn't.

"She did it to demonstrate her power," Ashika said calmly. "She did all of it without the use of magic. Imagine what she can do with magic. Let's hope we don't see that day. Getting back to the main topic of conversation, has she given you any more riddles to solve, that for some reason you don't investigate?" she asked.

Harry was growing frustrated with her already. "It's not that I don't try to solve them," he explained, screwing his eyes shut as he spoke. "I just didn't realize that's what she was doing."

"How pathetic. Now tell me about the riddles," she commanded him.

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair as he thought. "All right," he said. "She mentioned something about… something in 'one quarter of seven three zero,' whatever that means."

Ashika's posture changed--she sat up slowly and contorted her face.

"What?" Harry asked her.

"When did she say it?" Ashika asked, immediately jotting down the note.

"Back in May. Why?"

"And what had the two of you been discussing?" she fired.

"She said she might be a delusion of mine, because I found out she's not corporeal, then I said she couldn't fool me and I knew she was real. Why are you so excited?"

"Don't you get it?" she asked. "One quarter of seven hundred and thirty days is six months. She'll reveal herself in six months from that day."

Harry fell back into his chair and stared at her. "Is that good?" he asked.

Ashika frowned. "I suppose it depends on how it's done. But it sounds as if you can go back to your normal life after that point." Then she paused. "But that doesn't seem to make sense."

Harry stood up suddenly and paced around his chair. "It does," he said in a shaky voice. "If I don't take her offer by then, she'll destroy my family."

But when Harry turned to face Ashika to see her reaction, he was surprised to see that she was shaking her head at him.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"It's not her style," she replied. "Killing as a punishment isn't her way. It's too common. She seems to be much more sophisticated than that. There are a number of things you need to be asking yourself, Harry. Why is she waiting so long to reveal herself or make you the second offer? Where is the Black Order? What have they been doing all this time? And most of all, what is her motivation behind all of this?" 

"She's patient," Harry answered. "The Black Order's probably staying in Ithaca so no one sees them. And her motivation is simple. She wants my power. She knows she can't beat me. She knows I can destroy her."

This time Ashika smirked. "Mmm," she said. "Somehow I don't think you're right. If she's not corporeal, then how do you kill her? How can you murder someone if they don't have flesh? No, Harry, I don't think that's it. There are still mysteries about her that you haven't discovered yet. And so far she _has_ beaten you."

Harry shook his head in anger. "Every time I've seen her it's been on her own terms. She decides when she wants to see me. She's the one calling all the shots. I can't go and see her whenever I want to!"

Ashika frowned and slid back into the chair. "Settle down," she told him calmly.

Harry shook his head and began pacing around the room. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said halfheartedly. "I told you my position on all this. I quit."

"You're pathetic," Ashika said. "You really are. Someone or something worthy is beating you at your own game and you want to quit? Poor pitiful Potter. 'They put me in prison.' 'They were fooled by my enemy.' 'They should all be punished for doubting me.' When are you going to grow up and act like a mature adult?" she asked. "I don't care that you want to quit. Really it's not my business. If you want to stay here in secrecy, never see your daughter's dance recitals, stay cloistered in this house like a recluse, never speak to your friends, and live like a hermit for the rest of your life, then that's your business." She folded her hands in front of her then stared at Harry. "I can leave and never come back, if you'd like. I'll worry about Leucosia and you can stay here forever."

"That reverse psychology won't work on me," Harry said firmly.

"Then you'll help me and stop crying like a five year old that just found out life isn't fair?" she asked.

Harry turned his head toward the hallway as Audrey stepped silently into the living room. She yawned and walked over toward Harry, clasping her hand on his forearm.

"What is it?" Harry asked her.

"The little one wants you to read her a story," she said.

Harry looked backed to Narayan, who was obviously bored, tapping her pen on her paper. "I'll wait here," she said dully.

Harry walked down the hall without a word. Audrey made her way to the kitchen and began working on something. Ashika stood and casually meandered over to see her.

"It's a lovely house," Audrey said to her.

"I suppose," Ashika said, watching Audrey's movements.

"I want to thank you again for giving him back to us," she continued, flashing Ashika a toothy grin. "I couldn't imagine life without him."

"Oh yes," she replied sarcastically. "He's a fine young man."

Audrey set down a pan but stared into Ashika's eyes. "What's the matter? Is he giving you a hard time?"

Ashika pulled out a bar stool and sat at the counter, examining the kitchen and Audrey once more. "He's willful, stubborn, and acts like an arrogant boar in desperate need of common manners. But I suppose it comes with the territory."

Audrey didn't defend nor refute the statement. She smiled at Ashika and walked over to her. "I love him," she said simply.

"You'd have to in order to put up with him for more than five minutes," Ashika responded.

"He can be hard to live with," Audrey went on, continuing with her work, "most of the time he's hard to live with, actually. Sometimes, when he'd come home from being in his other life, he'd treat me like a stranger. It would take a few days before he'd even touch me. Harry's always had to approach human affairs slowly. He's still not sure how to respond or act in certain circumstances. It frustrates him. No one else, in his point of view, has problems like that; not knowing what to do, that is. Gosh," she said, crossing her arms and looking up at her ceiling in thought, "for a long time he wouldn't go near Dana. He was afraid he'd hurt her in some way. I know he's still afraid that he will hurt her by accident. He doesn't say, and he tries to cover it, but he doesn't feel comfortable around her unless I'm somewhere close. I suppose it's not so uncommon with some men. But I'd never seen someone so fearful and afraid of a common and simple lifestyle."

"I'm sure he doesn't want to be," Ashika said, feeling that Audrey wanted a response from her.

"No," Audrey said, "I know he doesn't." She nodded and smiled to herself. "He's gotten better over the years. But a year ago he wouldn't consider reading Dana a story without me in the same room. It's like he's afraid that he'll break her, as if she's glass. The look on his face when he first came over to see me, after we'd just met, and saw that I had a young baby was priceless. He was terrified, simply terrified to see her. At first I thought 'well that's it. He'll book out of here like I have the plague. What young man just starting out his adult life would want to get involved with a widow and an infant?' But something made him stay and I still wonder why."

Ashika had a good theory on the reason to that question, and she was about to answer but stopped herself. Maybe it was better that Audrey wonder. Telling her may change the way she acted around Harry on a subconscious level.

"Have you ever been in love?" Audrey asked her suddenly.

Ashika whipped her head up in shock and frowned. "No," she said instantly.

Audrey gave her a questioning look. "No? That's a pity. It would be horrible to go through life without it."

"That's the majority opinion," Ashika said firmly. "How long will he take to read to her? I might come back when he's finished."

Audrey shrugged her shoulders. "Dana has a pretty good control of him. She might make him read her another story. Harry doesn't like to say no to her."

Ashika slid off the stool and walked down the hall, abandoning Audrey and her "love talk" in search of her interest. She could hear, before even inching the door open, Harry's low voice, reading from a book. When she did manage to inch the door open, she could see Harry sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. Dana was on her small bed, looking over his shoulders to see the pictures, presumably. 

Ashika stood and watched for a minute or so. She swallowed hard as she tore herself from the sight and made her way into the living room, where she Disapparated.

**

Hermione and Ron had been informed, separately, that Harry was no longer in prison but in a small community in Northern California. Narayan had seen them and told them the news, saying that if they wished, she could arrange a meeting between the three of them. Surprisingly, Ron and Hermione were hesitant about the offer.

When the two discussed this strange feeling, Hermione came up with a possible hypothesis. She explained to Ron that perhaps they, Hermione and Ron, were growing away from Harry. He was so immersed in his secret life that he didn't seem very concerned with their own lives. At first Hermione thought she sounded selfish, but then realized that she wasn't. Caring about the goings on in a friend's life is essential. But Harry didn't seem to care. Ron agreed.

Harry hadn't asked about Vanessa or how she and Ron managed to get together. He didn't ask about Vanessa at all. Harry didn't know or inquire about Luke, Hermione's now ex-boyfriend, or how their relationship was. Sure, he'd asked when he was stuck in Hermione's house, but he never brought it up again. He didn't ask about their jobs, their family, their hobbies, new hairstyles, nails, broomsticks, or anything. Harry just didn't seem to care.

On top of that, he didn't even share his own life with them. They only found out about Audrey and Dana because they cornered him. Harry never mentioned that he could read minds and had precognitive thoughts. He never discussed his sessions with Clarice Starling. He never talked of the Black Order, which he claimed to work on.

Hermione and Ron sat and wondered. What did they talk about?

"He was never around," Ron said finally. "You're right. He was always doing his own thing."

"I give him a pass for his recent affairs, but even before this mess arose he was alienating himself from us. Besides that, he could be so harsh to the two of us," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said sadly, playing with a piece of pie that sat before him. "I still miss talking to him, though."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "So do I."

"What did you think of his wife?" Ron asked.

Hermione scowled without knowing it then fidgeted in her chair. "She seemed fine enough."

Ron watched her closely then smiled to himself. "She's gorgeous, don't you think?"

Hermione fiddled with her napkin and avoided his eyes. "She's not unfortunate looking."

"Nice too," Ron said. "She sure loves Harry."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "She sure loves Harry. She won him over with her killer body and charm, no doubt. Little miss perfect stole his heart."

Ron bit his lip. "So you don't like her much?" he asked.

"I hate her bloody guts if you must pressure me into a confession. Her and her supermodel body and her shampoo commercial hair and that soft innocent voice are enough to make me sick. How could Harry pick someone so uncomplicated and ordinary for a partner in life? What's she got that I don't have Ron? Why does he love her so damn much and not me? Why am I crying?" she asked, motioning to her eyes. "Why am I losing my logical sense over all this?" she continued, her voice cracking with her sobs. "Listen to me! I sound like an obsessed teenager who's been neglected for a dance formal. What happened to logical independent me? Listen to how emotionally silly I sound, Ron!"

Ron leaned over the table and took her hands. "It's okay, Hermione," he said soothingly.

"No it's not!" she cried. "I need to be sensible about this. I'm an intelligent, rational woman whose happiness will not revolve around what a man does! I decide when I'm sad and when I'm happy. I'm in control of me," she said. She wiped tears from her eyes and stiffened her upper lip. "I am in total control." A few more tears trickled from her eyes, but she swiped them away before they could roll down her flushed cheeks.

Ron tightened his grip on her hand and smiled at her. "It's all right," he said to her.

Hermione nodded her head and focused on her tea that steamed before her. "I'm in control," she told herself. 

"Yes," Ron said lightly, patting her hand. "You have total control over your own emotions. You've always proved that to us. Maybe you should tell Harry how you feel--"

"No!" Hermione said, violently shaking her head. "That would be selfish and what would it accomplish? He's married to Audrey. He can't leave her or his daughter for me just because I love him. That's senseless and I wouldn't allow it, nor would I encourage it. I want him to be happy. I want him to be happy and he's happy with them. They're perfect for Harry. Audrey is simply per--"

But she ceased as her mouth hung open and a strange and mystical expression washed over her face. Not only did she stop crying, it seemed as if for a good minute she even stopped breathing.

"Hermione?" Ron asked tentatively.

She blinked rather rapidly then looked back at him, her mouth open in wonder.

"What is it?" he asked her, hoping she'd give him some answers. "What are you thinking?"

And as she locked eyes with him, a subtle smile inched upon her gaping mouth. But it wasn't a smile of happiness or accomplishment. It was a smile Ron had seen only when Hermione had worked out a complicated puzzle.

"Hermione the suspense is killing me, really it is. What're you thinking?"

"I'm--" she started, then touched her temple with her finger. "It has to be," she said to herself. "There's no other logical way, Ron. Unless Harry is completely off the charts insane, then there's no other explanation for it. It's crafty. It's very crafty. If I don't do something Leucosia will get her way."

"Hermione," Ron said again, "you have to tell me what you're thinking. I'm not like Harry, I can't read minds!"

Hermione crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, pondering whatever was working through her busy mind. "Leucosia must be more powerful than she lets on. But how did she do it? How did she?"

Ron slammed his hands on the table, shaking even the foundation of the small house, and scowled at Hermione.

But Hermione didn't seem affected. Instead of rounding on him for his behavior, she stood up and Disapparated so quickly she left Ron in shock.

**

It was a brilliantly sunny July day. The sky was a perfect blue and the clouds appeared happy and puffy in it's sea of sky. Vanessa mounted her gray steed and started out with an easy trot, posting along the fence line. She smiled to herself as she squeezed her heels into her horse's side and he eased into a canter.

"Vanessa!" someone bellowed from up the hill. "Hey, Vanessa!" they yelled again.

Mumbling swear words under her breath, Vanessa turned to look and saw Ron, flailing his arms in the air like the Nixon wave in order to get her attention.

"What?" she hollered back. She turned her horse and cantered to Ron then made an abrupt stop just before running him over. "What is it?" she asked.

Ron's eyes widened as the horse stretched out his nose toward him.

"Any time you can tell me. I have all day," she insisted.

"Can you get down from it?" Ron said, backing away from the animal.

"Porthos won't hurt you. He doesn't bite. Would you just tell me what the matter is?" She pulled back her reigns a little and Porthos backed away from Ron. He chomped at his bit and started to toss his head around in boredom.

"I think Hermione's on to something about this Leucosia deal and all. She got her mystified 'I've solved it' face and now she's gone."

Vanessa smiled. "That's great news!"

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, dragging out his flat a. 

"Why isn't that good?" she asked, now frowning.

"I'm not sure her intentions are honorable. I think we should go find her and talk with her."

"Why the both of us?" she asked. "You know her a lot better than I do. And I can't see how she'd have bad intentions. She wants to help Harry out, right? Whatever gets him out of Vincula should be good."

Ron hadn't told Vanessa that Harry was no longer in prison. The story was too complicated to retell and Vanessa wasn't part of the trio of friends.

"You're better with knowing all that emotional stuff," he answered, shrugging his shoulders and blushing slightly.

Vanessa drew up one corner of her mouth. "It's because I'm a she and you're a he. Do you know where she is?"

"Knowing Hermione, my bet's on the library. Please come with me. I'd feel better if there was some kind of unified front. I don't know what she's up to but she had a glint in her eye."

Vanessa nodded, which told Ron she agreed, then headed back down the hill to continue her ride.

"Shouldn't we go now?" Ron asked.

"Nah," Vanessa said as she went into the trot. "Just let Hermione develop her plan before we intervene. Give her the benefit of the doubt."

Ron nodded to himself then took in a deep breath. He walked toward her house and nearly stepped inside when he heard a terrifying whinny from a horse behind him. He jumped so high from fright he hit his head on the house.

An hour later Vanessa was done with her ride. Ron watched from the secure house as she removed the saddle and bridle then sprayed the animal off with water and released him into a pasture with her two other geldings. Then she walked inside and grabbed Ron's cheeks.

"Why do you like those animals so much?" he asked.

She grinned then planted a big kiss on his lips. "Why are you so terrified of them?" she asked. She flattened her hands on his face and started to contort it with her fingers, laughing.

He tried smiling at her, but she was pulling down on his cheeks. "We should go," he said.

"Let me change into a better person," she said. "I smell like horse."

"And now it's all over my face, thanks," he said.

She grinned again then kissed both his cheeks and once on the lips. 

It seemed as if each step they took echoed in that library. Ron always got the chills when he'd go in there. "It's too quiet in here," he whispered to her. "It gives me the heebie jeebies."

Vanessa took his hand and squeezed it. "I'll protect you," she said. "I know these big books can be frightening. They might jump out at you and go BOO!" she said.

"Shhh!" Ron said to her, putting his finger to his lips. "Have some respect will ya?"

"Ron," Hermione said abruptly, coming around a corner at him with a few newspapers in her hands. "I think I've figured it out."

"Hello Hermione," Vanessa said with a straight face. "Oh thanks, I'm fine. How are you?"

Hermione turned to her and acknowledged her presence, then started for a table where she sat down and spread her papers. Ron broke his hand from Vanessa's and sat down at the table. Hermione arranged the issues of _The Daily Prophet_ in chronological order, then stacked a few other papers and set them before her.

Vanessa furrowed her brow and sat beside Ron, now strangely curious with what Hermione had come up with.

"What's all this?" Ron asked Hermione.

She took a few deep breaths then shut her eyes. "Remember a few months ago when we asked Jennifer Williams about Audrey? She said she remembered her name because she saw Audrey in the newspapers." She opened her eyes and looked at their faces.

Ron shrugged dismissively but Vanessa urged her to continue.

"I pulled these old papers from Records and guess what? Audrey Wyatt went missing for a week in July of 2001, just weeks before she met Harry."

"Missing?" Ron said, now interested in what Hermione had to say. "But she's here now."

"Exactly," Hermione said. She twisted around one paper to show him. "It says 'Audrey Wyatt, widow of the late Aiden Wyatt and mother of one, was reported missing this morning by an acquaintance. Her residence was completely void of any kind of evidence of intrusion. A few of Wyatt's belongings were missing, most notably her infant daughter and a series of supplies. According to friends, Audrey has been grieving continually over the death of her husband. The two reportedly had a very stable and happy marriage. If anyone has seen or heard from Mrs. Wyatt, please contact the Ministry of Magic.' Then a week later the papers had this to say: 'Once thought missing and possibly a victim of foul play, Audrey Wyatt and her daughter returned to their home in London as if they had been gone for a trip. When interviewed Mrs. Wyatt explained that she needed some time away from her home and from her routine life to contemplate her and her daughter's future. She's sorry she caused such alarm; she just had to leave immediately and didn't notify anyone of the sudden departure. It appears as if the trip has done Mrs. Wyatt good. She says she had time to reflect and feels much more prepared for life.' "

Hermione set the paper down then opened a manila envelope and withdrew some papers.

"So what's the big deal?" Ron asked.

"Come on, Ron. Audrey just suddenly disappears for a week, never telling anyone where she actually was, then a month or so later she starts dating Harry? Why would a mother and widow be so interested in a 21 year old freshly initiated Auror? Remember, she supposedly took this trip to grieve over her dead husband. What, all of a sudden she just got over him and moved onto Harry? There's more. I pulled out Audrey's records. Audrey's half wizard. Her father was a Muggle, a civil engineer to be precise. Her mother was a witch who died from a massive heart attack when Audrey was very young. Her father was killed by a fallen power line seven years later. Audrey was then placed with her father's brother and wife and was raised by them until she went off to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, Audrey was sorted into Ravenclaw house, was a member of the Transfiguration club, tried out for Quidditch but didn't make it, and graduated fifth overall in her class. Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing some eerie similarities here."

Vanessa and Ron exchanged a funny expression. "They have a lot in common," Ron said to Hermione in a no-big-deal sort of way. "Maybe that's why they get along so well."

Hermione shook her head and sighed in frustration. "Come on, Ron. They're both orphans, half-bloods, only children by default, and raised by their aunt and uncle. I'd say that's an awful lot to have in common. Then Audrey just coincidentally falls for Harry when he's 21? You remember him back then, don't you? He was going through women like they were shoes! First Piper then ended with Jennifer with a dozen or so in between? Why the sudden change in trend? And he got so serious with her that he kept her secret from us. It's all very strange."

Ron looked at Vanessa again, who had a pained and pitying expression on her face as she looked at Hermione.

"Hermione," Vanessa said solemnly, "I think he fell in love with her. He sees something special in her and he loves her. She gave Harry a family."

"Exactly. She gave him everything he's ever wanted. It's suspicious!" she said.

"No," Vanessa said. "He just got lucky. I think you need to accept that he's married to her and has a little girl. At least he was. He probably won't see them again, will he?"

Now Hermione was pulling at her hair in frustration. "Remember when Clarice said that the only way anyone could get into Harry's head was if he let them in? How can Leucosia see in his mind?"

"You're suggesting that Audrey's Leucosia? Leucosia is Audrey?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "No way, Hermione. Harry would know if he married an evil being. He's not stupid."

"He fell in love with her. Love is blind!" she said, banging her fists on the table. "Can't you see how perfectly planned it is? When Harry finds out that he married Leucosia he'll want to stay with her."

Vanessa and Ron exchanged yet another pitying look.

"Fine!" she yelled, gathering up her evidence. "Don't believe me. I'm right about this. I know I am. She's going to take him away because he loves her. She's raped him and used him and betrayed him and I'll expose her."

"He'd hate you if you accused Audrey of all that," Ron said to her, rising from his chair to stop her from running off.

"Hermione, be sensible about this," Vanessa urged her. "I really think you need to think this through before you run with the idea. You're accusing Harry's wife of horrendous acts. Promise me you'll think it through before reacting."

"It's the only way it works out. Can't you see that?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ron said. "Leucosia has a physical form, Hermione, as does Audrey. They're two separate beings. You seem to be forgetting that parallel dimension element in all this. The right man will come along for you, Hermione, just not Harry."

Hermione stepped back angrily and scowled viciously at them both. "This isn't about what I want! This is about doing what's right and I know the truth! I know it, I know it! It's the only way it works out and I will prove it to you!"

"And what would it do to Harry?" Vanessa interjected. "What would this accusation do to him and you? Your friendship would be terminated. He'd see right through you."

"I've always had his best interests in mind," she said firmly. "But you wouldn't understand that." And with that last jab, she Disapparated and was gone once more.

**

Enough time had passed that Harry, Audrey, and Dana had accustomed to the change in time. But they still hadn't set a routine in life, though one was forming. Each morning during breakfast they would be interrupted, without apology, by Ashika Narayan, who would proceed to nag Harry about Leucosia.

Harry would tell her he'd shared all the information he had about her then ask Ashika to leave. She would complain about his passivity in the matter. In response Harry would wave his hands around the secret house in the United States where no one knew he lived. 

"So what if they found you guilty," she would say casually. Harry had grown quite tired of her reasoning and would ask her to leave before he got real angry. She would groan loudly about it but eventually did as he asked. Then the Potters would resume their day.

But another routine started to emerge, one commonly called "cabin fever." Audrey was free to go wherever she wanted, and for that matter so was Harry. He was living in an entirely Muggle community far from Great Britain and was, strangely, not recognized. He had taken trips with his family to the lake nearby, gone for walks, and even driven into towns for the day. But something was bothering him and he didn't really know what it was. After all, family life was what he always wanted.

He found himself being short tempered with Audrey or with anything in general. One night CNN reported on something that he apparently found disturbing in some way, and he began swearing at the television. He had to go outside and run up and down hills to empty himself of his frustration so he didn't speak foul words in front of Dana.

One Saturday morning, when he didn't feel so wound tight, Harry played with Dana in the living room. She had deemed him a "howrsy," so he had to pretend accordingly. Having never played "howrsy" in his life, he was a bit unsure of how to go about it. Dana taught him very quickly and in no time he was crawling on the floor with Dana on his back telling him to go faster. He would've felt terribly silly had she not laughed and enjoyed it so much.

But that too was interrupted as the fireplace burst with green flames and Hermione came through looking cautious. At first Harry just stared at her, with Dana on his back and now lightly kicking him to continue. Then slowly he got to his feet, allowing Dana to get to hers, and approached Hermione.

"Hello, Harry," she said, somewhat timidly.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded to her. "Hello," he replied.

"Look," she started uncertainly, "I want to begin by apologizing for not accepting your apology when we had our last argument. I realize now why you didn't tell me the truth about that potion and I'm sorry I reacted like I did."

Harry let out a quiet breath and made his lips twitch. "That's all right," he said. "I should've told you the entire truth instead of parts of it. And I shouldn't have said anything that I said to you that day. I'm sick with myself with what I said to you and I'm very sorry."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay. And I should tell you something else. I knew you were lying to me about the potion. I wanted to find out what it really did so I contacted a local potions master and he told me some of its uses. I think my fireplace was being watched. I'm sorry."

Harry screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Dana clung to his leg in a playful motion, which probably kept him in control. He opened his eyes again and noticed Hermione's moist eyes and red cheeks. He sighed then took a few cleansing breaths.

"All right, all right. I guess they could've found out about it by another means anyway. Is the air between us clear again, at least until one of us does something to the other again?"

Hermione watched Dana tugging on Harry's jeans while smiling at her, then Hermione looked up at Harry and gave him a sad smile. "I think so."

"Good," he said. "So how are you?"

"I'm," she said, then wondered whether or not he was reading her mind. She avoided his eyes to look back at Dana then said, "fine. But I really wanted to know how you were doing."

"Oh, you know," Harry said casually. "I'm typical for my circumstance I suppose. I was found guilty of murder, Hermione, then sent to prison. How do you think I'm doing?"

"But you have Audrey and Dana with you," she said, now encouraging him with a smile.

"Yeah," he admitted, "but that doesn't really help the whole 'I was found guilty' issue, now does it? I'd like to think I have more needs than just family. I can't just have one and not the other."

"That makes sense," she said to him. 

"How's Luke?" he asked her joyfully.

"I broke up with him," she said.

"Oh," he said, but not sadly. "Should I feel sorry for you?" he asked clumsily with a hint of a smirk.

Hermione's eyes moistened again as she watched his boyish smile, then shook her head. "No," she replied with a hard smile, "you shouldn't. He wasn't for me." Then she stuffed her hands into her pockets and sniffed, shutting her eyes and telling herself to keep from crying.

"Your guy's out there for you," he said quietly, waiting for her to raise his head and eyelids to him. "He just hasn't come along yet."

She sniffed again, this time more loudly, and looked up at him with wet eyes. She couldn't restrain herself any more. She walked to him and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head just below his shoulder. She couldn't help but cry now, especially after he held her lightly, patting her back a bit.

"He'll come," she heard him say again. She shook slightly as she cried and tightened her grip on him as if scared he'd go away again. She buried her face into his chest and wet his shirt with her tears. Hermione couldn't help but breath in his scent: cinnamon and spring fresh laundry detergent.

Harry took her forearms and pulled them from him, then pushed Hermione back a little. She frowned and looked up at him, but he was looking behind her.

Hermione turned around and saw Audrey in the hallway. She was staring straight into Hermione's eyes now, her arms crossed, and weight shifted to one side. She wasn't biting her lip, frowning, or trying to intimidate her--she just stared coldly into Hermione's eyes.

For a moment no one spoke to each other, probably because none of them knew what to say. Finally Dana (children are always so good at this) broke the silence by walking over to her mother and conversing with her about simple matters. 

Audrey kept her eyes locked with Hermione's for a few more seconds then bent down to address her daughter. Hermione didn't chance looking at Harry, nor did he try to get her attention. He moved out of the room completely and walked into the kitchen, leaving Hermione alone with Audrey.

Dana ran down the hall to get something. Audrey stood up again and slowly advanced on Hermione, never swaying her eyes from her.

"It was just a hug," Hermione said firmly, not backing down to her. "Don't look at me like that because of it."

"We need to talk," Audrey spoke softly to her, showing no sign of contempt with Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said, "we certainly do."

Audrey nodded then made her way into the kitchen where Harry was. Hermione didn't move one centimeter but heard what Audrey was saying to Harry.

"Dana's putting on a swimsuit. Could you take her to the lake for a bit while I speak with Hermione?"

"There's nothing wrong with what she did, Audrey," Harry said firmly.

"Somehow I don't think you're right. If there wasn't anything wrong with it, why did you push her away when I came into the room? And if I were to embrace a friend like she was with you, I think you might be a little upset as well, don't you think?"

"She's a close friend," Harry said back.

"She's not your wife," Audrey replied.

"Really?" Harry asked flippantly. "Wow! I'm so glad you told me. I was starting to forget, actually. Thanks for the reminder."

Then Audrey whispered so quietly Hermione couldn't hear.

"She loves you, Harry," she whispered to him. "And it's not the friend kind of love. I can see when another woman is moving in."

"I would never be unfaithful to you," Harry hissed back.

"I know that. Does that mean I can't be upset with a woman who's attempting infidelity? I'm not going to be harsh with her; I just want to talk with her, woman to woman. Please just take Dana to the lake and have a good time. Is that so much to ask?"

"She's my friend, Audrey," Harry said.

"Then you tell her not to touch you like that again."

"I don't see what was wrong with it."

"You don't?" she asked coolly. "You wouldn't mind if I touched, say, Remus Lupin that way?"

Harry scowled at her but didn't retort.

"That's what I thought. Just take Dana and come back. We won't be long."

Hermione came around the corner and flicked her eyes back and forth between them. "It's okay, Harry. I wanted to talk with her anyway, just her. I need to ask her a few questions, is all. You know," she said, staring at Audrey, "get to know her a bit."

Harry looked between them. Hermione and Audrey were staring daggers at each other; neither one noticed Harry moving his eyes to each of them.

But then, right on time, Dana in a pink swim suit came skipping into the room with sunscreen in one hand and floaters in the other.

"Less go, Daddy!" she called out excitedly.

Audrey broke the glare to kiss Dana good-bye, then grabbed Harry's hand and gave him a swift, quick kiss to the lips. "Have a good time," she said to him, then ruffled her daughter's hair. "Be back soon."

Harry didn't chance another glance at either one of them again. He just nodded and walked out the door with Dana, shutting it behind him with ease.

"Harry's _my_ husband," Audrey said immediately. "I understand he's your friend but you need to know where I'm coming from."

"You don't own him," Hermione said bravely.

"No? Have you ever been married, Hermione? See, when a man and a woman get married something really strange happens. I belong to Harry and he belongs to me. I give myself to him and he gives himself to me. I know his secrets and he knows mine. So I'd have to disagree with you, Hermione. I do own him as he owns me."

"I've known him for thirteen years; a lot longer than you have."

"And somehow that gives you precedent over him?" she asked snidely. "If he was your husband and I, his close friend of thirteen years, embraced him like that, would you tolerate it?"

Hermione clenched her fists and cursed herself for losing control of her emotions as a few tears leaked from her eyes. "I love him! Okay? Are you happy now?" she cried as she gritted her teeth. "I admit it! I love your husband. I love him so much I can't stand to look at you and him together. I've loved him for years and I regret not saying or doing something about it. But I would never, ever, commit adultery or make him unfaithful to you. I don't care anything about you, Audrey and I doubt I ever will, but I know you make Harry happy. I want what makes him happy so I want you around. As much as I hate to say it, I know you've made him happy and I congratulate you!" she screamed. "You won!" she screamed again. "You did something I couldn't do! He loves you so damn much that it rips my insides apart because I know he doesn't feel the same way about me! There," she continued yelling, "are you happy now, Audrey? Is that what you wanted to hear from me?"

Audrey's mouth fell open a bit and she relaxed her stance. She uncrossed her arms and stood up straight as she watched Hermione cry freely.

"I tried kissing him when I took care of him for a week. He turned away from me and didn't ever tell me why. I know he's yours," she cried. "Don't take it out on him, he's done nothing wrong and never has."

Audrey nodded and sighed. "I know he hasn't," she said, not aggressively. 

Hermione wiped her tears with her hands but didn't look at Audrey as she did so.

"I'm sorry I reacted like I did," Audrey said. "I know how much he means to you. I just get worried sometimes is all. He's known you longer than me."

Hermione stopped wiping her eyes and stared into Audrey's face. "Why are you apologizing?" she asked quizzically. 

"I'm not. Well, not really. I'm apologizing for being bitch Audrey toward you but not for my opinion on what just happened."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Audrey, wondering if she should take the next step. "Why did you fall in love with him?" she asked, hoping it sounded genuine.

Audrey's face showed no change; she let the question wash over her but neither smiled nor frowned in concentration.

"Why did you?" Audrey asked in response.

"I asked you first," Hermione said. "What is it about Harry that attracted you?"

Audrey took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. "Harry saw me from across a room. It was a while before I felt him looking at me. But when I did…I saw something in his eyes, a genuine attraction, almost awe, as he looked at me. The physical attraction came first. He was still a little thin back then, but he was very handsome and he carried a confident aura about him. He talked to me like I was just a regular person and I talked that way to him. We just clicked, Hermione. We have a lot in common. But it was more than that. Harry's lost his innocence. With that comes a maturity that no one can match. He's been around the bend, seen awful things, and has fought battles. What's a woman not to like?"

Hermione nodded understandingly but wouldn't let her slip away so easily. "It's just that I'm a little confused. I can't see myself, with an infant, dating someone five years younger than me."

"That's the difference between you and me," Audrey answered.

"There's a ton more than that," Hermione responded quickly. "Where did you go when you were missing for a week a few months before you met Harry?" She crossed her arms, shift her weight to one side, and bit her bottom lip.

"Why do you care?" Audrey asked her.

"It was a big time in your life," Hermione said in a false sweetness reminiscent to Umbridge. "I thought we were sharing."

"Scotland," Audrey replied. "Glasgow. I stayed in a hotel with Dana. I just had to get away from all of it for a while."

"And a few months later you decided to take Harry in?" she asked.

Audrey smirked. "I don't like your tone," she said coolly just above a whisper. "How dare you presume to know what it's like to live in another's shoes."

"Especially when they're not really yours," Hermione said.

Audrey made a funny face of confusion. "What?" she asked.

"It didn't take much to realize that what Harry wanted most from life was exactly what you gave him just when he needed it most. And you and I both know that he won't give it up for anything. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you and Dana and you know it. Family is the one thing he's wanted most and the one thing he won't sacrifice for anything. He'll warp his life around to accommodate the both of you. You're more than you put on, Audrey. You have access to the most powerful wizard of our time. You say jump and he asks how high. I know who has control in the marriage. Harry thinks he has some, but you're the one calling all the shots. You know his fears, you know his secrets, you know what he likes and how he likes it. Your plan has failed because I know that you know those things about him."

Audrey's smirk grew into a smile. "What _are_ you talking about?" she asked.

Now Hermione smiled. "The only way Leucosia could see into Harry's mind is if he lets her in. And he lets you in."

"So you've figured me out?" she asked with a smile. "I'm Leucosia, eh? I stabbed him through the heart? I made him look guilty to the public of murder? I'm torturing him?"

Hermione didn't waver or step down. "Yes."

"Uh huh," Audrey said casually. "When Harry comes home, why don't you share the opinion."

Hermione blinked several times and swallowed, but she still didn't move.

"You can't frighten me," Hermione said.

"And you can't intimidate me with false accusations. You said so yourself. Harry loves me. Instead of accepting it fully you're trying to find a way to make it false so you can weasel your way inside. We have a daughter, Hermione. Think about her."

Hermione's breathing became deep and labored as her temper rose. "Why don't you?" she said.

"You actually think I'm Leucosia? You're the one that's delusional."

"Please, Audrey. You actually think you can fool all of us with this disguise? The prefect housewife, young, beautiful, kind woman with a matching background to Harry's who just happens to be interested in a 21 year old Auror fresh out of school? Harry may be blinded by your charms, but I'm not. I'll expose you for who you really are."

"Do it," Audrey said. "Go tell _The Daily Prophet_ your story. Tell Harry, by all means, what you think. I'm sure he'd love to find out. But the thing is, you're story is slanted. Your motivation behind this is jealousy and everyone knows it."

"Admit it, you coward," Hermione said to her. "You're Leucosia and you're manipulating, raping, and using Harry to get what you want."

"Wrong," Audrey said firmly. "I love him and he knows it. He can sense it, he can see it. There's nothing Harry can't see, don't you understand that? He knows you love him, he's known it for years," she said as Hermione's face slowly dropped. "Oh yes. He can read you better than you give him credit for. He's known the moment his telepathy kicked in. He told me you would look at him differently than everyone, hug him longer than you would anyone else, talk to him like you loved him, and dated people not because you liked them but to make Harry jealous. Pity none of it worked. He never once considered being with you when I was around. He's devoted to me. Get it into your supposedly intelligent mind and leave us in peace."

Hermione's bottom lip was quivering with the new information and she didn't want to cry in front of Audrey about this. But she knew she would cry. Hermione made an about face and marched to the fireplace, tossed in floo powder, and jumped inside to disappear.

She tumbled out, covering her red face, into the IWBI where Ashika was awaiting her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, walking to Hermione and pulling her hands from her face. "Hermione, what happened?" she asked.

But Hermione didn't want to repeat what Audrey had said, at least not now. She shook her head at Ashika and extracted herself from her.

"I want to go home," she said.

Ashika nodded and led her to a portal that would take her back to her house. She said nothing to Hermione, nor did she ask her any more questions. 

When Hermione did reach home, she didn't try holding herself back anymore. Her knees gave way as she crumbled to the floor in a sob so violent it shook her. So Harry did know how she really felt about him. Hermione always thought that men couldn't sense when a woman was attracted to him, no matter how obvious it was. But he could see into her mind and knew exactly how she felt about him these past years. He could see her fantasies about him, the dreams she had of him, the replaying of her moments with him which she clung to. He saw it all. He knew she carried a torch for him yet he did nothing about it. Audrey was right, Harry preferred Audrey over Hermione otherwise she would have him now instead of Audrey.

Hermione hated Audrey before she even met her, but now she really hated her. Something about her rubbed Hermione the wrong way and she couldn't put her finger on it. She was just too… perfect. She was too beautiful, too friendly, too soft spoken, and too good to be true. What was wrong about her? What flaws did she have? 

Hermione found that she stopped crying when she focused on Audrey's lack of flaws. Everyone had something wrong with them. She could write a list of flaws Harry and Ron had, even the one's she possessed. Harry could be short tempered, harsh, jump to conclusions, and had a tendency and skill to lie with a straight face. Ron could be dense, clumsy with words, and usually wrong about something when he was trying very hard. Vanessa, his girlfriend, also had character flaws. Hermione had known her a short time but she knew full well that Vanessa was a bit materialistic, loved money, did whatever to get money, and was a tad nosey. But Audrey? 

Her row with Hermione had been well founded. Hermione wouldn't want someone embracing her husband like she was with Harry. For heaven's sake, she made an effort to smell him. And boy did he smell good. So fighting with Hermione about it wasn't unreasonable at all. What were Audrey's flaws? She was always careful with her words, cordial to people, a good mother (at least from what she'd seen), and almost maternal with Harry. She had no physical flaws and Hermione hadn't seen any character flaws.

Hermione gathered herself off the floor and made her way to the couch, where she collapsed in it. What about Audrey wouldn't a man love? She was the perfect loyal little wife, willing to live in secret, willing to go months without seeing Harry, willing to bend over backwards for what he wanted. She was totally selfless and gave Harry everything she had, and he took it.

Grabbing a pad of paper and pen from the coffee table, Hermione began to list character traits Audrey must have to live with Harry. Audrey had to be patient with him, understanding, tolerant of his tempers and outbursts, multitasking to take care of Harry and her daughter, and very trusting.

On the other side of the paper she listed the traits Leucosia had to have. She too had to be patient because her plans were long and drawn out; she had a great understanding of Harry and of humankind in general; she was an excellent strategist and a powerful leader and had to trust her Black Order with her biddings.

It didn't occur to Hermione that she was stretching everything in order to link Audrey with Leucosia--it just seemed obvious to her. Leucosia was confident; at least that's what it sounded like from Harry's recounts of her. She was confident that Harry would fall into place and do whatever she wanted. The only way Leucosia could know Harry so intimately would be to be intimate with him. It was so obvious Hermione wondered if other people had even considered it, Harry included.

Suddenly there was a surprising knock on the door, causing Hermione to jump a little. She put her hand to her chest and sighed from the slight fright. Then she pushed herself off the couch and started for the door. The person on the other side knocked again.

"Coming," Hermione said. 

She reached for the handle and yanked the door open.

"Miss Granger," a cool and familiar voice said to her from behind a silver reflective mask.

Hermione's eyes bulged open and she instinctively shut the door and locked it. Her heart was beating out of control as she stepped backwards further into her house. She grabbed her wand from the coffee table and gripped it tight in her right hand. 

The voice belonged to Lucius Malfoy. He was alone, dressed in a black cloak with an eerie silver mask on his face, the lips of it pulled up in a smile.

"Apparate away," Hermione told herself, trying to calm down. "Apparate to the Ministry of Magic."

Only she couldn't. She didn't know if it was her nerves or a spell that had been cast onto her house, but she couldn't get away. She raised her wand to the door, her hand shaking so the wand was trembling, and waited to defend herself.

Her door knob twittered.

Hermione's breathing became quick.

Malfoy knocked again and tried opening the door.

Hermione started to shake all over and felt herself crying. "Help," she whispered hoarsely. "Help," she repeated a little louder.

Then she heard glass breaking down her hall. Hermione backed herself into the living room corner and stared down the hall, then looked back at her front door. "Help," she cried.

For a moment she could only hear herself breathing.

Then all at once, three men, all adorned in shining black robes and cloaks, their faces covered with silver grinning masks, ripped through her home and walked toward her slowly.

"St-Stupefy," she said, pointing her shaking wand at one of the men. But her hand was trembling so severely she missed completely and the red beam hit a vase. "Stupefy," she said again, this time hitting one of them. Only it had no affect.

"Miss Granger," Malfoy said to her, "do be a good girl and cooperate with us."

"Stupefy!" she yelled, but again there was no effect.

Hermione pushed out of her corner and ran toward her door, but one of them men grabbed her around the middle, picked her up, and threw her against the wall where she banged the side of her face and slid to the floor.

"Now, now, Miss Granger," Malfoy went on, "you should know from previous experience that I will not let you escape unscathed."

"Leave me alone!" Hermione cried for what it was worth.

Malfoy laughed behind his mask and lift her to her feet. 

"Try to run again," he urged her.

But Hermione knew they were just playing with her, teasing her to try to run for it and make a sport of her.

"No?" he asked. He took her wand, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her to another man, who grabbed her breasts and held her back to his stomach. Hermione tried to free herself, but he was too strong. The third man came up to her and struck her face with the back of his hand then laughed coldly.

"Now gentlemen," Malfoy chuckled. "We have our orders."

The man holding Hermione moved his hands to her wrists and pulled them behind her back while the third man seized her hair and pulled back so Hermione's neck was stretched and exposed. 

"Help me!" she screamed.

"Dear, dear, where is your hero now, Miss Granger?" Malfoy said as he fiddled with something in his pocket. "If only Potter could hear you, he would save you. He would take it instead."

Malfoy got so close Hermione could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. "But you'll see him soon," he whispered in her ear. "I promise you that. And now I fear I must do what I was ordered to do. I admit that I'm not sorry about it."

Withdrawn from Malfoy's pocket was a silver dagger, which gleamed and glinted in the moonlight pouring in from the windows. 

"No," Hermione said, trying futilely to escape. But she was held in such a way that she couldn't move at all. "No, please," she cried as Malfoy brought the knife to his eye level. "Help me!" she cried again. "Please, no!" she said to Malfoy, but he was set.

He re-gripped the dagger in his hand, then, with his free left hand, he rubbed her cheek with his thumb and snickered to himself. Hermione's focus was not on his touch but on the clear edged silver blade which was moving away from her, then paused.

But it wasn't paused for long. In one fast motion Malfoy sped the dagger and plunged it into her heart.

Hermione let a painful choked cry escape her throat. Malfoy laughed and twisted the blade in her heart. Hermione cried again but it was near silent. The men holding her released her and she felt like she could fall back, but the dagger was keeping her upright.

"Goodbye, Granger," Malfoy whispered, then tore the knife from her chest.

Hermione fell back, but she didn't hit the floor--she disappeared.

**End note:** _Yes I know, update soon. I update as soon as I can, but I do have a life. I would like to take this time to thank my wonderful beta, Elizabeth, who works hard to make the chapters all nice and shiny! Give a round of applause for her! I know I'll get tons of questions about plot, but you need to know that I won't answer those. And I don't think you would want me to anyway. You can ask about this chapter or past chapters if anything has confused you (this is read in other countries where English is not native, so there's always room for confusion) but nothing concerning characters or plot. Oh sure, I can't stop you from theorizing or asking questions, but I won't address them._

_And yes, I'll update A.S.A.P. :>)_


	11. Odysseus's Temptation

Chapter Eleven: Odysseus's Temptation 

The sun rose steadily from the darkened horizon and pierced the dusty blue morning sky with crimson hues, which bled into the scattered clouds and spilled onto the buildings below. 

Ron Weasley had to shield his eyes from the intruding sun as he walked along the path with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He fought his way through London, unconcerned with everyday life, and finally entered his place of business.

Auror Headquarters had been rather subdued since the incarceration of one of their own. The Aurors would go about their usual business in a silent manner. They occupied themselves with heavy workloads, and they made certain to arrive when needed and depart not a moment too late. 

Ron stepped to the back of headquarters and stared upon Harry's empty cubicle. His belongings had been removed since he had been disavowed, including photographs of the three of them during their Hogwarts days. Ron, who had never had an office of his own, was given Harry's vacant space. While it was a nice to have an office of his own, Ron felt as if Harry had died and the cubicle had been _left_ to him. In fact, the very office seemed to carry an aura of Harry. It gave him the chills.

Ron had been reluctant to place anything of his own inside the cubicle, thinking, almost hoping, that Harry would return. Just in case he came back, Ron stashed Harry's belongings in a box and kept it under the desk. But he had a nagging sensation that, even if Harry's name was cleared and all returned to normal, Harry would not resume work at the Ministry.

Tonks walked carefully down to Ron's office and lay a stack of paperwork before him, giving him a placid smile as she did so. Ron nodded and returned the gesture, then got to work. His day began, as most days, completely dull and normal. Then, at ten that morning, he received an owl from Spark's Publishing asking if he knew where Hermione Granger was, as she was an hour late for work. Hermione being late for anything, even a pedicure, was very out of the ordinary, but Ron didn't panic.

He replied to the owl saying he'd check on her, then did as promised. He informed Tonks that he was going to see Hermione and he would return within the hour. 

He Apparated to Hermione's front door and began knocking. "Hermione!" he called.

No one answered.

"Come on, Herm!" he yelled even louder. He frowned and walked to the window and peered inside, putting his hands to his face and window to cut the glare. The house appeared vacant.

"Huh," he mumbled to himself. He walked to the door again and tried the knob; it was unlocked. He proceeded inside and shut the door behind him. "Hermione!" he called out. "Are you here?"

He eased his way in and stepped carefully to Hermione's bedroom. The bed had been slept in, but was empty. By touching it he knew it had been empty for a while; it was cold. Ron checked the other rooms but caught no trace of her. Frowning in mild confusion, he began to leave. He stopped when he reached the front door.

******

A strange dream filled with lollipops and hippogriffs was interrupted as Harry was shaken awake by both Audrey and Ashika Narayan. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed his glasses, and looked up at the both of them with a confused face. His pupils dilated much too quickly as he saw their faces. 

"What happened?" he asked hurriedly.

Audrey began swallowing convulsively as she turned to Narayan. 

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Get up," Ashika said gravely. "Something's happened."

Harry threw his covers off of him and scrabbled out of bed, tripping as he put on his trousers and a shirt. "What's going on?" he asked with a shaky voice. He knew by the severity of their expressions that something dreadful had happened. "Please tell me!" he yelled now, frustrated by their silence.

Audrey took him by the hand and led him into the living room where Ron sat in the sofa with his head in his hands. 

"Ron," Harry said.

Ron raised his head to face him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was shockingly pale, and his hands were trembling nervously. But Harry hardly noticed his friend. He noticed the absence of the other.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked timidly. He whipped his head around to face Ashika, knowing she would give him the answer straight. "Where is she?" he demanded of her.

Ashika shut her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know."

Harry picked up an ornamental object and threw it out the window, shattering the glass as it traveled.

"I thought you knew bloody everything!" he yelled at her. "Tell me what happened!" he screamed.

"The Black Order took another victim," Ashika continued quite calmly. "Hermione wasn't at work this morning. Her employer owled Ron asking if he knew where she was. Ron went to her house, but she wasn't there."

Harry tried calming himself. It wasn't working well. "Then how do you know she's gone?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Ashika withdrew a manila envelope from her pocket; she unsealed it and extracted several photographs and gave them to Harry.

Depicted in the photo was the back of Hermione's front door. On the door was a note on yellowed parchment which was held to the door by a silver dagger dripping with blood.

Harry's knees gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

"No," he mumbled hoarsely as he flipped to the next photo, a close up. "_No_," he moaned again. The parchment, stained with flecks of blood, had only two words elegantly written with silver ink. The meaning of those two simple words felt like the cold dagger piercing his own heart once more. The words were simply: "Your loss."

The photos slid from his hands and slipped onto the floor where they spread like blood.

Audrey kneeled down to Harry and took his face in her hands, leaning her head on his. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Harry pulled away from her and crawled to the opposite wall, shaking his head and staring blankly. Ashika continued speaking.

"They've done analysis of the blood. It's Hermione's and it's from her heart. I'm sorry."

But Harry didn't respond to her. He concentrated on his breathing as Leucosia's words filtered through his mind. Her sneering face, her proper English, he seductive voice and tone… it was enough to make him insane. 

"She killed her," Harry said dully, almost unaware that he said it. He flicked his eyes over to Ron, who was now sobbing uncontrollably on the sofa, his choked cries echoing through the house. "She killed Hermione," Harry said again, just as numbly as before. "My Hermione," he whispered to himself as his head fell to his knees. "My Hermione," he said again as he pulled at his hair with his vibrating hands.

He felt Audrey sit beside him and wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss his temple. She was trying to sooth him, trying to abate the horrible pain inside him. Only a few hours ago Hermione had held onto him, crying for his loss.

There was a familiar uncomfortable pain pitted within his stomach. It churned within him like a knife, twisting and cutting his insides, leaving a gaping hole. Hermione's hole. 

Smiling, clever, sincere, compassionate, caring, and loving Hermione, who was always there for him, even when no one else was, had gone. She was gone.

Some part of him believed it, while another said it couldn't be true. Hermione couldn't die, she couldn't be killed. She was too strong willed to be murdered, to have the life ripped out of her, to allow cruelty and evil to pierce her heart. It couldn't have happened.

But it had, Harry's reason said. _You weren't there to save her. You failed her. She's dead because you failed to stop the Black Order and Leucosia. She's beating you. She killed Hermione. She killed her. She killed her. She killed her!_

Harry's head seemed to sink deeper as he thought of Leucosia and Hermione. He dug his nails into his head in hopes he'd stop seeing visions of her. Smiling Hermione. Know-it-all Hermione who would tell him he was being immature and irrational when they were young. "You can't do that, Harry," she would say. "You should see Dumbledore about it, Harry, he would want to know." "Cho couldn't keep her eyes off of you." "Books and cleverness. But there are more important things, Harry. Bravery…" "You're a great wizard, Harry, you really are…" "It's not _Spew_, Ron, it's the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare!" "I read all about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Harry screwed his eyes shut and began trembling. He couldn't help but see her laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, looking up at him with lifeless eyes, a tremendous gashing hole in her caring heart.

Ron was not exercising as much control as Harry was. Harry could vaguely hear him howling in pain in a corner of the room, calling out for Hermione. He cried like that for hours, it seemed. Harry wasn't sure how much time had elapsed before Ron finally controlled himself. It was morning, though. It was the very next day.

Harry quickly abandoned all of them and walked about his house with no purpose, staring blankly out the windows, or else hiding away in the bedroom closet.

He found a small corner there and in it he huddled. It was quiet, secluded, and felt more comfortable then being in the light of day or with everyone else. No one came to look for him, not even Dana. Harry suspected that Audrey had taken her somewhere, to spare Dana the knowledge of death at such a young age.

Ashika didn't bother him either. He half expected her to burst into the closet and yell at him for being an emotional wreck and un-masculine. But she didn't. No one bothered him.

No one came close to him until his wrist watch read three in the afternoon. Harry heard thumping feet down the hall, then the thumping came and stopped outside the closet door.

The door opened a crack and Audrey peeked inside, then came in and sat before him.

"I'm sorry," she said again, putting her hands on his knees. "Harry, I'm so very sorry."

Harry shut his eyes and shook his head. "I should've been there to save her," he said with a quavering voice.

"Don't say that," she replied calmly. "It's not your fault she's gone."

Harry swallowed and held back tears as he stared at her. "But it is," Harry replied. "It always is. They always die because of me," he said, staring at the opposite wall. 

Audrey shook her head. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" he asked, frowning at her as he spoke. "It's not too hard to figure it out. I'm the reason she died. I'm the reason they all died. Different circumstances, of course," he continued nonchalantly, as if it were a normal everyday conversation. "They all died for different reasons, trivial reasons. At least Hermione did. I think. She wasn't trying to protect me, was she? But it doesn't matter now," he went on. "Hermione is dead and there's nothing more I can do about it."

"Harry, you can't blame yourself for everything tragic that happens," she said forcefully. "You can't live life blaming yourself for people's deaths."

Harry unknowingly bent his eyebrows down into a scowl. "But I _am_ the reason," he said coolly. "It's a vicious cycle that I'll never escape. I have power. Someone fears me. I need protection. Even though I have power, my protectors are slain. Then I kill. Yeah," he said casually, "that's about it. My circle of death."

Audrey sat up and looked at him intently. "Don't be callous," she said.

"Why not?" he asked, the corners of his lips drawing up. "Why not be callous? I should just gush my heart out whenever someone new dies? I shouldn't protect myself from this… this tragic cycle that plagues my existence? It's a cycle. Someone in my life is always dying and it's never me."

He stared at her for a while, the thumping in his chest growing loud with anger. 

"So what are you saying?" she asked. "You're going to leave me and Dana because one day we too will die?"

"You know nothing about this sort of thing!" he screamed. "How many people have died because of you? And nothing that you did, just being you, was enough to kill all of them!" he yelled, balling his hands into fists and striking the ground. "I'd like to see you try watching people die around you. One by one they all fall before you because of who you are! I'm tired of it!" he screamed. "I'm so TIRED OF IT!" he yelled.

But Audrey didn't back down. "It is not your fault that she died. She was killed, like many others, by the Black Order. She's another victim, that's all."

"That's all?" he scoffed. "Now you're callous and naïve. Leucosia told me I'd suffer a loss, and Hermione was it. Because I didn't join her she brutally murdered my best friend! The only person in this world who was always there for me, who was always loyal and had faith in me, who always believed me, is dead! So don't you come in here and lecture me about why she died. I know why. She died because she was an innocent bystander who I cared about. Whoever I touch is doomed!"

"Shut your mouth," Audrey snapped. "That's crazy and you know it."

"Prove it," he told her. 

"Ron. Dumbledore. Me and Dana. Remus Lupin, Ginny Weasley, the rest of the Weasleys, your friends from your training, need I continue?"

"You fucking idiot," he said quickly to her with teeth clenched.

Audrey raised her hand as if to strike him, but Harry acted on his instincts; he lunged for her, grabbed her wrist, and pinned her down to the floor, glaring into her eyes.

"Don't you dare try to hit me!" he yelled at her, his face inches from hers.

"Then don't you dare speak to me like that!" she hissed back at him.

Harry kept her down as he searched her eyes, his teeth still clenched in rage toward her. "You're lucky I don't try and hit you," he said to her.

"You wouldn't," she said confidently looking into his eyes. "And you know you wouldn't. Now get off of me."

Harry took a few deep breaths, then released her and sat back down as if nothing had happened. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head.

Audrey sat up and stood up to look down at him. "I'm waiting," she said sternly.

Harry looked up at her from the tops of his glasses. "For what?" he snapped.

"You know what," she replied. "Don't play the fool."

"An apology?" he asked her. "For calling you a fucking idiot? No. Why should I have to say it before you tell me you're sorry for trying to hit me? I lost my best friend, you fool! And you want to slap me like I'm some smart mouthed child? Why don't you get out of my face and lock the door behind you! Do it!" he screamed. Now he stood up to be equal in height with her. "Leave me the hell alone!"

Audrey's eyes began to water as she watched him. But this time she didn't reply with her hand. She did as he asked and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Don't you tell me what to do ever again!" he yelled through the door. "You do not control me, you hear me!" he yelled even louder, his face red with lividness. 

There was no reply. He paced around the closet, breathing loud and heavily, then kicked a hole in the wall and cursed again.

***

It wasn't until three in the morning that he abandoned the closet. He stood in the doorway and saw Audrey asleep in their bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. She was beautiful in the soft moonlight. He started to walk toward her but stopped himself. He backed away and left the bedroom for the kitchen.

He began clanking dishes around as he pulled down a plate. He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out bread and jelly, slammed the door, and got the peanut butter. He started to make his sandwich when he heard a small yawn from his right.

Dana had walked into the kitchen. She was clad in pink pajamas, her hair in a tangled mess, her eyes full of sleepiness. 

"You should be in bed," he told her, concentrating on his sandwich again. "You hear me?" he asked her. He looked to her again, this time with his eyebrows raised.

Dana looked mildly shocked as she faced him.

"It's too late for you to be up," he said to her. "Now get to bed."

He dropped his head and shut his eyes, gripping onto the counter with his hands. He didn't hear Dana leave. He opened his eyes, saw her in his peripheral vision, and felt anger sweep back into his veins. He grabbed a cup and chucked it at the refrigerator.

Dana screamed and began to cry.

"Shut UP!" he yelled at her.

Dana backed up a little but continued to cry and scream as Harry began kicking at the walls, punching the walls, leaving gaping holes in his wake.

Audrey came running into the room. Harry twirled around to see her.

"Stop this," she said, grabbing Dana as fast as she could and shielding her from Harry. "Stop this right now!"

Harry dropped his shoulders and stared at her, a loud pounding in his ears like war drums.

Audrey glared at him as she shielded Dana, then marched down the hall and into Dana's room, slamming the door behind her. Harry heard her lock it.

Harry backed into a corner of the kitchen and sunk down to the floor, pounding the wall with the back of his head. His face was wet with perspiration and his hair was dripping. He could hear the muffled sobs from his frightened daughter through the walls. He pushed himself off the floor and marched down the hall to Dana's room. Audrey sounded as if she was singing Dana a song in order to sooth her.

"I'm sorry," Harry said through the door, trying to open it.

"Go away, Harry," Audrey said firmly.

"Open this door," he said.

"Not right now," Audrey replied. "You're too angry. Please just go away right now, okay? You're scaring Dana."

"I'm sorry," he said again, dropping his head on the door. "I'm really sorry, Dana. I shouldn't have done that. Audrey, please open the door so I can see her," he said.

"No," she said.

Harry bit his lip and forced himself to walk away. He strode back into the living room and threw himself into a chair. Moments later Audrey, with Dana dressed and a packed bag slung over her shoulder, entered the room. Harry stood to walk toward them, but Audrey whipped out her wand and pointed it right at him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a forced calm at his family. "I lost my temper and I'm sorry."

Audrey backed up toward the fireplace. "You're dangerous like this," she said.

Disagreeing with her would have been a complete lie, and Harry knew it. How many holes had he put in the wall since this afternoon? But his anger and pain was beside the point. Audrey had a determined expression on her face and Dana looked scared to death at the sight of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Dana and I are going back to England for a few days so you can sort this out alone," she said, sounding as if she'd rehearsed the phrase in her mind.

Harry gnashed his teeth together but did not yell. "You're leaving me?" he asked.

"Only for a few days. We'll come back when we can actually help you, but you're too angry right now and it's not safe for either one of us."

"I wouldn't ever hurt you," he said automatically.

But Audrey didn't respond. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. The flames flushed green and Audrey began to walk in it when Harry rushed over and seized her wrist.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you"

"That's my point," she replied. "Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did. Now let us go if you know what's best for Dana. We'll be back in a few days."

She wriggled her wrist out of his hand and walked into the fireplace and automatically disappeared. Harry knew that she and Dana would be redirected to the IWBI and that he could technically follow her. Something told him, however, that he shouldn't pursue them. He let them be.

Now that they'd actually gone, Harry was able to relive what he'd done in front of his daughter. He'd scared the living daylights out of his own little girl. He was unable to control the flashes he had in his mind of Dana screaming in terror of him. Her scream was spine-chilling, her face contorted in total fear.

He was sick with himself, almost literally.

It was the first time he remembered the promise he made to himself many years ago. The promise that if he ever had children, for he wasn't certain he would, that he would never hurt them physically or with his words. 

When he was eighteen and Hermione and Ron had asked him if he liked children, Harry automatically said no. He even said that he would never have children of his own. For a short minute, he thought it was a normal reaction for someone of that age to have. Eighteen was certainly too young and too immature to be a father and raise a young person to adulthood. But Ron found it funny. Ron wanted children, and so did Hermione. Not right away, but in the future after marriage. Harry remembered that he smiled sheepishly at his friends and never brought up the subject again. But as he sat there with his two friends that day six years ago, sipping tea, he made himself a promise. The promise that, if, in the unlikely event that he sired a child, no harm would come to them, especially from his own mouth or hand. But he still couldn't figure out why he didn't want them or even liked them.

He later found out with Dana that he was terrified he'd do something wrong with her, like drop her or injure her somehow. At the time he thought he felt that way because he had never been around babies and was simply inexperienced. But the feeling had never left him. It had lessened since he'd grown accustomed to Dana, but it still lingered.

Harry slinked off to his bedroom and fell onto the messy bed. Audrey had obviously gotten out of it in a hurry to save her daughter. Harry could smell Audrey's sweet flowery scent on the pillows. Somehow it relaxed him.

But he couldn't keep his mind from buzzing loudly. If he didn't think about Dana or Audrey, Hermione's smiling face would pop up in his mind. Why didn't he realize that Leucosia would take Hermione? Why did she, even? Leucosia had told him that killing the people closest to Harry would be "cliché." But hadn't she done it? Wasn't Hermione dead? Wouldn't that be cliché? 

Harry had been awake and in an emotionally drained stage for over twenty-four hours now. His eyes shut and he took a deep breath as he lay on the warm bed. The last thought that came to him before he finally surrendered to sleep was not a vision, a fantasy, or an image. It was a clear, short, simple phrase that seemed to ring out into the room as he sighed.

Leucosia will die.

**

The following morning Harry woke himself, automatically felt for Audrey beside him, then deflated his lungs. He rolled to the edge of bed, nearly fell off, then hoisted himself up for a stretch and a yawn. He didn't bother to shower or shave, so he sauntered down the hall to the living room. The crime scene photos of Hermione's house were spread out on the floor just as he'd left them. He wanted desperately for them to disappear so he wouldn't have to see them again, but he also wanted to stare and gawk at them. 

Strangely, the decision hinged on one photo Harry hadn't bothered to examine the previous day. As he reached down to pick it up from the ground, he found his heart wishing to explode. It _couldn't_ be…

Harry examined the close up photo of the dagger very carefully. His eye couldn't help but focus momentarily on the blood on the blade. But the blade itself was most interesting. The tip and edges were clear and reflective. The blade was curved. It was a near replica of the one Malfoy had used on him, down to the design of the handle. The only difference in this dagger was the silver handle instead of gold, and the raised inscription which read: _mus htrow eht, _instead of _wish come haa._

Harry took the photo and ran to the kitchen counter for a pencil and paper so he could write it, the reflection to it, they way it was supposed to look: _the worth sum_.

Harry's heart was racing now. Leucosia had used another message, another passage into Ithaca. What if Hermione was also in Ithaca, safe and sound? What if Leucosia had just taken her and wanted him to think she was dead?

Harry scanned the phrase over and over, willing himself to find meaning in it or unscramble the message to reveal the true meaning. Vanessa had solved the riddle with ease, but Harry had never been good at word scrambles. 

"Okay," Harry said to himself, in hopes that hearing his thoughts would help. "The last message was 'show me Ithaca,' because that's what Leucosia wanted me to find. So what does she want me to do now?" Harry asked himself. He began to cross out the letters in _the worth sum_, which matched up to "show me." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The first part was over.

The remaining letters were t, h, r, t, and u. Harry didn't have to be good at solving word scrambles for this one. 

"Show me truth," Harry said blankly. "The truth to what?" he asked himself.

No sooner had he asked the question, that there was a green blaze of fire in the hearth and Ashika Narayan suddenly appeared. She stepped inside the house, dusted herself off formally, and walked over to Harry with a questioning look on her face.

"Hell hath no fury like a man in grief," she said to him, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"I don't think she's dead," Harry told her.

But Ashika simply smiled as if she'd expected this. "Of course not," she went on.

"I'm serious," he said, pushing the photo towards her. "Hermione's not dead."

"Harry, I'm sure you're aware of the stages of loss. Denial is one of the first."

"I'm not in denial," he said, growing frustrated. "Look at this dagger. Have you seen what mine looked like? It was exactly the same except for a few minor details."

"So it's not exact, then," she corrected him. "I did see similarities though, but I can't believe Hermione is still alive because of them. You survived because you were rushed to the hospital, worked on by the top Healers in the country, even the world, and still it wasn't certain that you would live. Hermione is missing in action, there is no body, and there is no person. We have no idea where she is."

"Leucosia told me I'd suffer a loss," Harry confessed.

Ashika squint at him skeptically. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" she asked.

"I got sidetracked. But she told me I'd suffer a loss. I knew she wouldn't kill my friends because she nearly said she wouldn't. The note says 'your loss.' But Leucosia wouldn't kill Hermione. There's no purpose to it."

"Other than proving to you this is no game. There is always a purpose, Harry. This Black Order is unstoppable. They were able to conquer you. They seized Hermione and they killed her. Her blood and heart tissue is on that knife. You must accept the truth and exact justice."

Harry shook his head. "She's not dead, Ashika. I can't explain how I know but I just know that she's safe. Leucosia had this planned. Somehow she knew you would get me out of Vincula."

Ashika didn't reply. She bit her lip pensively and turned away to pace in the kitchen.

Harry went on. "The message on the knife…"

"Show me truth," Ashika said automatically. "Yes I know. We already figured that out. But just because there's a message doesn't mean Hermione is still alive. Try to accept it."

Harry clenched his teeth in suppressed rage and gripped the kitchen counter. "You're wrong," he said viciously. "She's not. Leucosia wouldn't do that, I know she wouldn't. I'm the only one who's spoken to her, the only one who's seen her. I know her better than you do."

"But I am not emotionally involved," Ashika went on gravely. "Leucosia knows you better than you know yourself, doesn't that frighten you?" she asked. "She has predicted your every move, your every emotion and thought. It's time to stop worrying about a dead woman and try to get involved in this war."

"She's not dead," Harry said again.

Ashika sighed exasperatedly. "Fine," she said. "Moving right along… show me truth. Finally we have a theory as to how she'll reveal herself."

"You think that's what she means?" Harry asked. 

"It's one option. Chances are she's willing to come out with the truth very soon, in a few months actually. It's August now and she said she'd reveal herself six months from May the third. We have three months left before she does it."

Harry concentrated his mind away from Hermione and toward Ashika's ideas. "How will she do it?" he asked.

Ashika crossed her arms and stared into his eyes. "Like she's done everything else. Privately and probably with you. That's something about her which frightens me. She doesn't mind being secretive or unknown to people. She doesn't mind being alone, she's severely patient, intelligent to an extreme, and has the ability to distribute her powers out to her minion. But there is still so much about her that eludes us. What is it about Ithaca that keeps her safe? How has she managed to create a parallel realm? And why does she want you by her side?"

Harry shrugged. Ashika's questions were relevant ones but his focus was on Hermione and getting her back should she have survived the stabbing. "Has anyone told Hermione's family about the situation?" he asked.

"Not specifically. They've been told that Hermione's missing, as we don't have a body yet."

"Oh good," he said sardonically, "that won't worry them."

"Focus," she commanded him.

"You're a cold hearted bitch, you know that?" he asked her. "My best friend is missing, her family fears the worst, and you tell me to focus?"

"Tall words coming from someone who chased his family out of the house," she replied nonplused. "I don't need your sarcasm as we try to solve this. You need to understand that I'm on your side."

"That's terrific, but I don't know where to go from here. You said so yourself, Leucosia knows my every single move before I make it. So what exactly are we going to do to change that? The only thing I can think of is to try to invade Ithaca by force using this new dagger or the other one."

Ashika put her finger to her chin and pondered the idea. "That's not a bad idea," she replied.

"Good. You get the knives from the Ministry and I'll go in after her."

Ashika pursed her lips and shook her head. "I can't send anyone in there. You can't go in there, even if you can metamorph. They'd know you were entering and our entire mission would crumble. No, we'll have to use someone else."

"Ron," Harry said. "Ron will go into Evidence and get them."

"Ron could never hide such a crime. No," she said with a growing grin. "No, it's time for Miss Deverauex to enter from stage left."

Harry gave her a questioning look, but she didn't explain further.

**

Instructed by Narayan, Ron filled Vanessa in with all the details regarding Harry's partial freedom. He then escorted her to a specific fireplace for them to travel to the IWBI. She was brimming with questions but Ron didn't have the answers or the temperament to quench her curiosity.

By the time the two appeared in Harry's temporary home, Vanessa was demanding answers.

"Miss Deverauex," Ashika Narayan said with a smile. "Daughter of Bret and Jade, eldest sister to Halley and Clayton, graduated Hogwarts second in your class, purchased three Arabian geldings: Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. You've been given research work from a few shady figures including bounty hunters and the resident vampire slayers of Britain and in surrounding European countries. You have a fascination with ancient history, mythology, and demonology, a love of precious gems, fine metals, and rich deals." 

She smiled to see Vanessa's shocked reaction.

"Who are you?" Vanessa asked with large and perturbed eyes.

"I'm the Director of a secret agency, which is all you really need to know right now. I have another job for you."

Vanessa looked around to Ron, then Harry, and finally back at Ashika. "You can't afford me," she replied immediately.

"I bet I can," Ashika said.

Finally Ron interrupted. "What does Vanessa have to do with Hermione?"

Ashika smirked and walked over to Vanessa and lift Vanessa's left wrist. "Nice gold watch," she said, examining it.

Vanessa yanked her arm away and stepped backward. "What do you want from me?" she asked.

"I remember Dr. Marc Simon having a watch just like that one," Ashika continued. "In fact, I'd wager you stole that watch from him when you, Ron, and Hermione were all meeting with Simon in regards to Harry's whereabouts. Tell me that I'm wrong, Miss Deverauex," Ashika said in a lighter tone than normal.

Harry and Ron both whipped their heads around to stare at Vanessa, whose face was flushing red.

Vanessa swallowed with great effort and crossed her arms defensively. "You're accusing me of stealing?" she asked Narayan.

"Yes," Ashika replied. "And you're going to steal two more items for us from the Ministry of Magic."

"What?" Ron and Vanessa said in unison.

"Don't worry, Weasley," Ashika said as she stared into Vanessa's eyes. "Your girlfriend has a long history of kleptomania starting when she was in her second year of primary school. She stole a set of marking pens from a little boy and never returned them. You see, many people feel guilty about thievery, but Deverauex here became addicted to the adventure stealing, so she continued. I'm sure Simon's gold watch is not the most recent item."

Vanessa scowled at Ashika, her arms shaking from either anger or embarrassment.

"You're a telepath?" Vanessa asked.

"No," Ashika answered. "I confess I was always interested in your mother's character. After my accident, everything important happened in a quick succession but she seemed to be longing for the past, which I found fascinating. So I continued to watch and found my interest in you, the young, intelligent, but compulsive stealer. You see, I've been watching you very closely after you graduated from Hogwarts. Trading information on magic and demonology for coinage with Muggles is highly illegal and could earn you prison time."

Vanessa opened her mouth to speak but was unable to immediately articulate her thoughts. When she gathered her strength to speak, her voice was hoarse. "Vampire slayers are in a different category of Muggles," she said.

"A Muggle is a Muggle. Just because she has superior physicality does not mean she's a witch. And your bounty hunter friends lack even that. So I'll strike a deal with you, Vanessa. You do as I ask and I forget that you work with slayers and bounty hunters. How say you?"

Vanessa didn't take long to consider the arrangement. Within the minute she agreed to Ashika's demands and probed into her future dealings. After Ashika explained the plan, it was Ron, not Vanessa who was nervous about the idea.

"What if we get caught?" Ron asked. "I could lose my job and embarrass my father, the Minister of Magic!"

Harry sighed and pinched his nose. "No, you've got it all reversed. You won't get caught because _he is_ your father. No one will know, and even if they did Arthur has the power to make it go away. Besides, Vanessa is the primary party."

"You're a metamorphmagus, Harry, why can't you do it?" Ron asked.

"Because I need to practice it and I don't have the patience right now. I don't have much physical variety. The most I can change is my hair, to dark red, and unless you want me to pose as Percy, no way. That and I'm not a skilled thief. Oh, and lest we forget that the Ministry itself will know exactly when I've entered. I'm not supposed to be out of Vincula."

"And if that was discovered," Ashika said, "my man inside, and possibly the Bureau, would be exposed."

***

Hours passed as Harry paced around the house, pausing momentarily to stare outside into the beautiful garden Audrey had managed to produce in a few weeks. Several hummingbirds zoomed around the garden in hopes for nectar. Somehow the basic but peaceful scene caused Harry to reflect on the past few days.

Hermione had come to see him but talked to Audrey instead. When Harry returned from his outing with Dana, Hermione had gone. Harry asked Audrey what had happened, but she hadn't revealed much more than Harry gathered for himself. Hermione's open affection towards him had hit a sore spot for Audrey, and she and Hermione had a discussion. But Harry felt as if something more had gone on. 

But Audrey reassured him with some wise words. She had said that maybe in a few weeks, possibly even months, Hermione would be fine with the idea that Harry was married to someone else. 

"Sure she will," Harry had mumbled, more to himself that to Audrey. "She'll be fine."

Audrey had smiled and placed her hand on his knee. "She's a very clever woman," Audrey said. "I like Hermione. We have some friction now, but she'll come around and get used to me. You really can't blame her for being jealous," she said with a grin to him. "Besides, she couldn't warm up to the idea of you and me because when she did learn of us… well, we're married and that's permanent."

Harry smiled a little as he thought of Audrey. He couldn't stand to think of how or where he would be without her. Whenever he would leave her, he'd want to return. Whenever he was with her, he felt strangely whole and complete.

Harry's brief smile faded away just as the sun was blocked by incoming clouds. The shadows left by the sun merged into a subtle darkness. A sudden chill slid down his back and goose pimples rose all over his skin. He sighed.

Now the only sound in the house was the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. There wasn't the running of little feet from Dana. He couldn't hear her happy giggle. Audrey wasn't talking to him in her soft voice. Hermione wasn't telling him some fact she'd read in a book. He was alone again.

The fireplace burst back into life as Ashika Narayan walked through it with authority. For a short second Harry thought that Ron and Vanessa had returned from their mission. He was severely disappointed to see Ashika in their stead.

"What now?" Harry asked. He felt as if he'd seen her everyday of his life and was becoming annoyed with her presence.

"I wanted to talk with you," she said in a calm sort of way.

Harry grimaced at her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What about?" he asked.

"Audrey and Dana are staying in England for a few days. What happened last night?" she asked.

Harry felt his stomach sink. "That's really none of your business, now is it?" It wasn't really a question. "Care to leave me alone for a while?"

"They looked upset," Ashika unwisely continued.

Suddenly Harry's goose bumps were gone as his flesh grew hot. "I know," he said.

"What did you do to them?" she asked.

Harry pulled his hands out of his pockets then folded them behind his back. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

Ashika hesitated as she stared up into his eyes which seemed strangely bright. She pulled back her upper lip with her bottom and continued to scan his eyes.

Harry squinted into hers and took a small step forward so that he towered over her.

"I said," he whispered dangerously, "what do you mean?"

"I mean," she began bravely, "what happened that made them leave?"

The left side of Harry's mouth sagged as his brow was seemingly pulled down by the earth's gravity. "Well," he said softly, "what do you think happened? You're the one who thinks she has all the answers. Why don't you make an educated guess?"

Ashika took a tiny step backwards. Harry took one forward. He was so close that he could feel her body heat.

"Well," he continued as the silence grew, "go on, Narayan. Analyze me. Say it. Tell me why they left. Tell me why I chased them off. Tell me why Audrey found it necessary to protect her daughter from me. Please," he said with a grin, "please enlighten me. That's what you do best, isn't it? Tell people all that you know. My, you are impressive, aren't you?" he asked coolly. "Ashika Narayan, mysterious woman from the East, who no one knows about but knows everyone and why they tick. So tell me, Director, tell my why my family left. You're curious enough about it to come back here. Give me the reason."

Ashika glared up at him and opened her mouth to speak when Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and slowly pushed her to the wall. 

"Say it," he commanded her, his eyes boring into hers. "Tell me what you think."

"Release me," she told him.

"No," he said with an emerging smirk. "Next request?"

"All right," she said. "You scared them off. They're frightened of you. I guess they're no different than anyone else, are they?" she added daringly.

Harry tightened his grip on her shoulders, causing her to wince, then replaced his hands to the sides of her head, holding on just as tightly as before. His smirk widened to a toothless grin. "You think so?" he asked. "They're frightened of me? Are you?" 

Harry rubbed her forehead with his thumbs while awaiting her answers. "This isn't uncomfortable is it, Narayan? I wouldn't want to make you feel frightened at all."

Ashika's eyes shaped into slits as she stared at him.

"No," she replied.

"Why aren't you?" he asked. "You're sure I won't hurt you? You're confident I won't pop your head like a rotten egg and spill your brains to the floor?" he asked viciously, his head moving closer to hers.

Harry could feel Narayan's pulse beat rapidly as he stared into her eyes, but she kept her peaceful façade. 

"I know you won't," she said to him.

"Tell me why," he pressed on, cocking his head slightly to one side.

"Because you don't harm innocents," she said.

Harry pulled his head away from her and lessened his grip on her head. "Very good," he said. "Then don't you ever assume that I would hurt my family. Do you understand me? If that thought ever crosses your mind again, then I swear I will make you pay. I would never bring them harm, ever."

He released her and walked back to the window to continue his trance. "Do be so kind and leave," he said to her.

"I think you need to get out of this house," she told him.

He turned his head around to look at her. "I will the moment Ron and Vanessa return."

"That isn't what I mean. It's unhealthy for you to be caged in here." She placed her hand in her pocket and clutched what Harry suspected was a wand, and took a few more steps backward toward the hearth.

"Where do you suggest I go?" Harry asked.

"That's your choice. But you can't lock yourself in here waiting for them to come back. Let Audrey find you. I'll return with Ron and Vanessa," she said, then stepped into the fireplace and vanished.

Harry gave her suggestion brief thought before actually venturing out doors. Only then did he remember that it was August and he was no longer in England. The temperature was unbearable and made him dizzy so that he had to return to the house. 

He pinned up the crime scene photos from Hermione's home and scanned them repeatedly with his eyes. Nothing new surfaced. 

**

Harry was running his finger over the inscription of the dagger when Vanessa, beaming widely, and Ron, green in the face, sat before him at the table. Narayan walked behind them with two boxes in her hands.

"Mission accomplished," Vanessa said to Harry.

"Barely," Ron added.

"Oh now," Vanessa said, lightly slapping Ron's shoulder, "an inch is as good as a mile."

Harry looked over to Narayan who was opening the boxes and pulling out both Daggers of Ithaca. Harry's heart pounded faster as Hermione's silver weapon was freed from its bindings and placed before him on the table. Her dried blood still covered the blade.

Ron's face changed from pale green to white as he stared at the weapon which killed his best friend. Vanessa seized his hand and squeezed.

"Now what?" Vanessa asked to anyone who would respond.

Harry pulled his eyes away and looked up at her. "I go into Ithaca."

"And do what?" Ashika asked. She collapsed into a chair and massaged her temple. "I know I agreed to this, but what exactly will you do?"

Harry's fingers inched toward the dagger and wrapped themselves around the handle. "I'm not sure," he said calmly, grasping the dagger tightly as he pulled it toward him. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"And how will you get into Ithaca?" Ron asked. "You can't go back to my house."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Countless reasons, one being that it's probably not the entrance in anymore," Narayan answered. 

"It was the first time," Harry said.

"Yes. You got there because Leucosia showed you where it was and how to get in. But it's different this time, Harry. You haven't been invited back," Narayan told him.

"I'm still trying the old route. If she's closed it, then so be it."

"It won't work," Ashika continued. "It's a different dagger and it was assigned to a different keeper. Haven't you figured it out by now? These daggers are the keys into Ithaca."

"So I'll use mine to go through my entrance," Harry said to her, releasing one dagger then clasping the other.

Ashika shook her head in frustration. "It had to be opened at a certain time. You opened it just when she wanted you to. Remember the bird flying overhead? She gave you the exact time and place and knew you would make it on time. But she hasn't given you that. The time and place are still in question."

Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and bit hard on his lip. "So I just sit here for a few months waiting for Leucosia to present herself to me?"

Ashika nodded her head.

"That's unacceptable," Harry fired back. "Hermione may still be alive and I will not let her languish in Ithaca with God knows who else. What if she's being tortured by Leucosia's Black Order?"

"Hermione's still alive?" Ron asked.

"I don't think so," Ashika said before Harry could speak. "And for the sake of argument, if she still is alive, then there's a reason for it and Leucosia won't harm her further. We need to all remember that this woman or… whatever she is is patient to an extreme. She's methodical, intelligent, and can predict Harry's next move faster than he can. We need to take great care with what we do next. This is her game, after all. We have to play by her rules and right now she's making sure we wait."

Harry passed his hands through his hair then summoned a pack of cigarettes to him.

"Please don't smoke," Vanessa groaned.

Harry ignored her and lit up desperately. He sighed with relief, exhaling a huge cloud of smoke.

"That's the most disgusting habit ever," Vanessa continued.

"You live in England. You should be used to it," Harry said as he leaned back in his chair.

"How could Hermione survive?" Ron asked Harry.

"Same way I did. Leucosia told me that killing everyone around me would be a sign of weakness. If Hermione is dead then Leucosia is admitting to being weak. And killing my best friend," he said, snapping his head around to Ashika, "would not blow over so well if Leucosia's ultimate goal is to acquire me of my own free will. I won't join someone who's murdered my friend."

Vanessa gave a quick sideway glance to Ron, who met her, then back to the discussion. "Leucosia wouldn't be disguising herself, would she?" Vanessa asked.

Ron turned his attention to Ashika.

"What do you mean?" Ashika asked.

"Well," Vanessa said gingerly, "what if Leucosia is posing as someone else?"

The chair Harry was leaning in hit the ground on all four legs. "As who?" he asked.

Vanessa looked back at Ron, who shifted his eyes from side to side. Vanessa swallowed, then looked in Harry's general direction but avoided eye contact. "I'm not sure," she said. "I guess anybody."

"Why do you think that's a possibility?" Ashika asked Vanessa.

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders and shook her head absentmindedly. "Just a theory."

"What do you know?" Harry asked her somewhat accusingly.

"Nothing," Vanessa said. "I was just thinking that Leucosia knows you too well. Maybe she's known you longer than you think."

Ashika reached across the table and grabbed a cigarette from Harry's carton and lit up. "It's something to consider," she said pensively. "Thank you."

**

In the few days that slowly passed, Harry didn't give Vanessa's suggestion another thought. He didn't give Ashika's advice of getting out of the house another thought either. Harry contained himself to his darkened bedroom by day and night, smoking constantly in silence as if hoping the whispers of darkness would comfort him. The midnight blue curtains would twitter as hot breeze hissed into the room, slapping Harry's face.

Harry tipped ashes into a tray, which sat beside him. Hermione's lost words stung his mind. But these words were not words of encouragement or wisdom. 

Harry and Hermione had been talking through the Floo network just a few months ago. Harry apologized for treating her so horribly after he'd taken that potion, but Hermione wouldn't accept his apology. 

_"Would you have acted like such a monster in front of or toward your little girl?" _she had asked.

_ "I'm---I'm not sure," _he had answered. Harry screwed his eyes shut as the conversation echoed loudly in his mind.

_ "Think real hard, then," _she had growled at him.

_ "No," _he had said, not meeting her eyes. 

Yet he had. He had acted like such a monster towards his little girl. She had only gotten out of her bed to see what he was doing, and he punished her by screaming in her face.

Audrey whisked her away like any good mother would have done, because she didn't trust Harry with her. The idea wounded Harry so deeply he didn't want to live with it. Perhaps Doctor Simon really had been right when he said that Harry was dangerous. Causing your own daughter to tremble and freeze in fear…only monsters are capable of such actions. Maybe he had more in common with Leucosia than he would've liked.

Harry took another long breath from his cigarette, held the smoke for a few seconds, then passed it over and through his lips into the small room.

"Hi," Audrey said to him from the door.

Harry jumped. He hadn't heard her come in. He immediately stood up and smothered his cigarette, as she didn't like the smoke.

"You're back," he said.

Audrey nodded with a small smile. 

"Dana?" he asked.

Audrey ran her tongue over her lips and shook her head. "She went to the zoo with my uncle. He's showing her the zebras today. It's just me, Harry," she said as she walked toward him.

"You're afraid I would hurt her?" he asked, his eyes burning uncomfortably as he watched her.

"I won't lie. So yes, I was a little frightened that you might do something accidentally to her, or me, in your rage and grief. I think even you were surprised by your actions, weren't you?" she asked.

"I wasn't going to hit her like you tried with me," he said in response.

"We're not going to get anywhere if you back track, Harry. I apologized for that and you still want to hang it over my head? Dana was terrified of you. She cried for hours because she didn't understand why her father was so angry with her. She's three years old, Harry, she doesn't know any better. How many times have I told you to be careful with her?"

"Enough," he said.

"Obviously not if you screamed at her. You need to control yourself around her. Yelling accomplishes nothing but fear and intimidation."

Harry folded his arms around his chest and leaned back against the wall as he looked at her. "What happens now?" he asked. 

"That's up to you," she said. "I can bring her back tomorrow morning, after she's rested, or I can leave her there for a few days if you need to calm down some more. She's fine with my aunt and uncle."

Harry dropped his head and chewed on his lip. "I won't hurt her," he mumbled.

Audrey nodded slightly and gave him a peaceful smile. "I'm sorry about Hermione, Harry. I liked her, in spite of our differences. But you can't treat people, especially young children, so hostilely when you lose someone."

"I know," he said.

She took a few more steps toward him and reached out her hand. "Okay," she whispered, intertwining her fingers in his extended hand. "I love you," she said.

Harry took a deep breath then shook his head at her, frowning in confusion. "Why?" he asked.

She smiled bashfully, almost as if she expected his question. "Do I have to have a reason? Do you have a reason for loving me?"

"You're everything I always wanted," he said. "I don't deserve you," he added with half a smirk.

Audrey closed the remaining distance and placed her arms around his shoulders then kissed his right cheek, then his left. "Let me be the judge of who I deserve," she whispered, leaning in for his kiss.

"I'm glad you're back," he mumbled.

Audrey grinned as she passed her hands through his hair. "I would never leave you, Harry. We'll be together forever. I promise." 

Harry grabbed her waist, pulled himself to her, and kissed her longingly. At that moment a mixture of relief and extreme happiness enveloped him, leaving his knees weak and his skin hot to the touch. He heard Audrey laugh seductively against his mouth.

Two hours later Harry breathed steadily as he lay with his head under Audrey's chin. She was twirling her finger in his hair while her other hand stroked his back. She knew they were breathing in rhythm. Their hearts were beating as one. She kissed his damp forehead then leaned her head back and shut her eyes as a peaceful smile spread across her face.

**

**

The weeks that passed in solitude proved to be a trying time. Ron frequented Hermione's house, with permission from Law Enforcement, in a desperate state, searching for some kind of proof of life. Harry had shared his theory with Ron. He hoped more than anything that Harry was right and Hermione lived in the secret realm Leucosia occupied and protected. But he could only hope.

Her house was collecting dust and cobwebs from neglect. Ron found himself polishing Hermione's family photographs on her hallway wall. He walked into her room to see her bed unmade with embroidered pillows atop it. Ron sat down on it and looked around her room. His eyes rolled over bookshelves, paintings, and finally to a photo which sat on her bed stand. Ron took it and held it in his hands. It was a moving photograph of the three of them, just after they finished Hogwarts. Hermione was in the middle, beaming, with her arms linked into Harry's and Ron's, who were both grinning from ear to ear.

Ron stifled a small sob as he set the photo down where it belonged, then stood again to leave. Just before departing, he turned and looked one last time.

"I miss you, Hermione," he whispered, why, he was not sure. Maybe he wished, wherever she was, she could hear his voice, she could know that she was so deeply missed.

**

**

It was late September when the Grangers held a prayer service for their daughter and missing family member. They had not been told that a murder weapon had been discovered with a note to Harry. A body would have to be found before anyone would be certain. But the mystery did not keep friends and family from flocking to a peaceful hillside where they could gather and pray for Hermione. An Anglican priest, who had baptized Hermione when she was very young, led everyone in prayer.

The group sang hymns, held hands, and comforted one another. Ron stood next to Hermione's parents. Mrs. Granger held a tissue to her mouth as she cried soundlessly, while Mr. Granger stood ashen as everyone prayed for his lost daughter. Ron put his arm around Mrs. Granger and promised her everything would be fine. He amazed himself with his convincing tone. Ron cast his eyes up another hill and saw Harry, partially disguised, with his head low and his hands folded in front of him.

When Harry saw the group disperse, he wiped his eyes and walked the opposite direction toward a small winding road where a black taxi awaited him. He got inside and told the driver to go, then sat silently as the car rolled along the bumpy street.

Ashika Narayan had made special arrangements so he could attend Hermione's service, but he had to remain apart from them in case someone recognized him up close. He didn't lie to Audrey when she asked him how it was. He told her for the first time it seemed real. Hermione had been gone for so long it was almost as if she had never been. After he had lunch with Audrey and Dana, he retired to his bedroom and slept.

He wished Leucosia would tell him how to get into Ithaca. After all, it was time that she approached him again with her second offer. _After the trial, after the verdict, after your loss, then and only then will I extend my hand…_ And so it was. Where was Leucosia's offer? Where was the door into Ithaca? When would she show herself? When would he have the opportunity to murder her and avenge all she had done?

**************

October 28, 2004

**************

The yellowed leaves began to fall from the trees as Harry walked by and shook the branches. Dana ran to them and leapt on top of the piles and sank. Harry smiled, then lifted her from the cracked leaves and threw her up in the air. She giggled loudly and begged for him to do it again once she was safely in his arms again.

A cool breeze hit them from the north and made Dana shiver. Before being scolded, Harry led her back into the house where Audrey waited with hot chocolate and tea. She gave Harry a crooked smile as she twirled her finger in her drink.

"Summer's over," he said to her.

"Mmm," Audrey replied. 

Harry sat Dana in her chair and passed her a small cup of hot chocolate. Dana's favorite thing was chocolate, so she relished in it as she slurped it all away. Harry smiled at her then wiped her lips with a serviette.

"Show me with your fingers, how old you are," Harry said to her.

Dana beamed and chuckled as she held up four fingers.

"Wow," Harry said with a grin. "How many is that?"

Dana wiggled in her chair. "Fouwr," she said. Harry had asked her numerous times how old she was, since her birthday last month, because he loved to hear her say it and she loved it when he asked.

"What are you going to be when you grow up?" he asked her. She changed her mind almost weekly.

"A pwincess," she said. "Owre a ballewrina."

Harry leaned his head on his hand and smiled at her. "That sounds great," he said.

"But," Audrey chimed in, "princesses need their beauty sleep and it's nearly bed time. Maybe Daddy can get you ready and read you a story."

Dana's face contorted as she slid down in her chair. "I don't wanna go tuh bed," she whined.

"Too bad," Audrey said. She set down her mug and hoisted Dana out of her chair.

"No!" Dana squealed.

"Come on, Daddy," Audrey said as she carried Dana down the hall into Dana's bedroom. Harry followed her and helped take off Dana's play clothes, bathe and dry her, then put her pajamas on; all was done with Dana's fake crying.

"If you don't stop crying Daddy won't read to you," Audrey told her as they took her back to bed. "You understand?"

Dana whimpered a little more but kept quiet when they tucked her into bed. She selected _Yurtle the Turtle_ for Harry to read, but she was asleep before he reached the halfway point. He sighed as he looked down on her, then kissed her soft cheek before turning out the light and finding Audrey.

"She's out," he said to her.

Audrey smirked as she folded laundry. "I suspected she was tired. You played with her all day."

"I suppose I did," he said, falling onto the bed and helping fold the clothes. "There's a faster way to do this," he said, grabbing Audrey's wand. He waved it around the pile of clean clothes and they sorted themselves out into nice piles. Harry waved it once more and they all flew to where they belonged.

"You're handy to have around," she said, crawling towards him.

"I can do more than laundry, you know," he said with pink cheeks and a sinful smile.

"Yeah?" she chuckled. She playfully pushed him so his back was on the bed and he had to look up at her. She unceremoniously wiggled her way toward him and straddled him. "Oh," she said, snapping her fingers. "Narayan came by today while you were out."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't have her in my head. It'll affect my performance."

"She had something important to tell you that she wouldn't tell me," Audrey said.

"So she'll come by tomorrow?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Knowing her, probably. I just thought I should tell you. Sorry I brought her up," she said as she unbuttoned his shirt.

He sat up, put his hands on her thighs, and began kissing her neck.

She shut her eyes and exhaled, peeling his shirt off and running her hands over his warm skin. Audrey took his neck in her hands to guide him back to her mouth. She put pressure on him, signaling for him to fall to the bed, and he did as she liked.

Audrey pulled her head away for a moment and looked down into his eyes, tossing her hair back with her hand. He was breathing heavily but smiling up at her.

"I love you," she said. "That will never change," she said.

"I know," he said confidently, pulling himself up to kiss her again. "I love you, too," he murmured as he continued more vigorously.

Audrey was gentle, like always, though it was overshadowed by Harry's enthusiasm which always made him a little too rough. But Audrey never said anything about it, nor did she mind it. An hour after they began, Harry was sleeping peacefully beside her.

Audrey watched him, then eased out, slipped on her silk gown, and tiptoed down the hall into the living room. She held her gown close then walked to the fireplace and blew into it. A fire crackled instantly; the white flames danced, leaving bright shadows in the room. One corner of her mouth drew upwards as she watched the flames grow higher and lick the roof of the hearth.

She walked back to her bedroom and paused to watch Harry sleeping. She silently slipped back into bed and caressed the side of his face with the back of her hand.

"My Harry," she whispered. "With me, you will suffer no longer."

He moved a little but not to escape her touch. "Hmmm," he said with lips sealed.

"Do I make you happy?" she asked softly.

Harry opened his eyes slightly to look at her. "What?" he asked groggily.

Audrey looked over his shoulder to read the clock. It was ten at night, which was early for them to be in bed. "I asked if I made you happy," she said with a smile.

"Oh," he said, shutting his eyes again and relaxing into the pillow. "Yes," he mumbled incoherently.

"Mmm," she said as she kissed his temple. 

Harry was ready to fall back into sleep when Audrey began humming to herself. At first it made him more relaxed and at ease than he was before. The tune was so peaceful and tranquil. Then Harry's eyes opened as the tune became familiar. It took only a few short seconds to place that seductive, haunting tune. He looked over at Audrey, who was smiling ruefully, running her hand down her side.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Audrey grinned. "Shall I sing it to you?" she asked.

"No," he said firmly.

She frowned playfully. "You do not like it?" 

"What did you say?" he asked, backing away from her now.

"There is no need to be frightened," she said, grabbing his hand and stroking it with her thumb. "I will not hurt you. I would never bring you harm."

Harry tugged his hand from hers and continued to inch away from her, unaware that he was already on the edge of the bed.

"Watch out," she said, but too late. Harry slipped out of bed, dragging the covers with him. 

Audrey propped herself up to look at him. "Are you injured?" she asked.

"No," he said.

Audrey gracefully pulled herself off the bed and walked toward him. Harry backed up again.

"Watch your back," she said just as Harry bumped into the corner of the bed stand. "Calm down Harry," she said, crouching before him.

Harry gave a false laugh, mingled with a fearful cry, and shook his head at her. "What the hell is this? Audrey, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he asked.

"No, Harry," she said solemnly, grabbing his knees. "It's time."

"No," he said. "No, this isn't real. This isn't happening!" he whined, moving away from her.

"But it is," Audrey said. "It has to be."

And right before his eyes, Audrey's hair transformed from dark brown to white silver from the roots; her face thinned, her soft brown eyes became a glowing silver, and her skin dazzled white in the moonlight. "It _is_ time," Leucosia said to him.

"No," Harry insisted, shaking his head at her. "No, you can't make me hurt Audrey like you did the others."

Leucosia sighed and gazed into his eyes as she mutated back to Audrey.

"God no," he groaned, still shaking his head.

"Yes, Harry," Audrey said, grabbing his hands and looking him straight in the eye. "Yes."

"No, this can't be happening," he said firmly, though his bottom lip was quivering. "It's a nightmare. It's one of Leucosia's tricks. She's playing with my mind again, she has to be!"

"No I'm not," Audrey said softly, looking pitifully upon him.

Harry gritted his teeth and tried pushing her away, but Audrey pushed his wrists back down with power Harry had never seen in her. Harry tried to get away, sidling toward the windows, but Audrey pinned him to the floor and straddled him. 

"This is not a game," she said to him. "You know it isn't."

"That's exactly what this is!" Harry yelled, struggling to get out from under her.

"Why is it, then, that I am more powerful than you?" she asked calmly.

Harry arched his back in attempt to through her, but she didn't move an inch, nor did he. "Harry, you suspected me all along. Don't you remember? Over three years ago. After you had first been to my house and seen Dana, you walked away thinking I was too good to be true. But you shook it off because you were already falling for me."

Harry shook his head again and began to hyperventilate.

"Calm down," she said to him. "Just calm down, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" She released him and stood up. Harry rolled over and braced himself just before retching. The pool of sick reeked and forced him to repeat the action.

Audrey crossed her arms as she looked down on him, but did nothing else.

He wiped his mouth then supported himself on all fours, hoping he wouldn't be sick again. His vision was blurry but he could still make out drops of his sweat falling to the ground from his face. His mind was racing with flashes of Audrey before his mind. His smiling wife, his other half. The first day he met her… The day he came to see her… His thoughts when he first left her home…

She _was_ right. He remembered thinking she was too perfect to be safe. The timing was too right. She was too beautiful and kind to have wanted anything to do with him. He'd thought it over three years ago but never allowed it to cross his mind again. 

"Didn't you ever ask yourself why?" Audrey asked.

Harry turned his head toward her. She was cleaning his glasses then handed them to him. He snatched them from her.

"Ask myself why what?" he asked darkly.

"Why I want you by my side? Why I asked months ago? Didn't you ever wonder?" she asked with a friendly smile.

Harry tried standing up, but collapsed. "Leucosia can't beat me," he said to her.

Audrey shook her head. "Harry, I'm more powerful than you are, you know that. I could have killed you several times. By magic, poison, strangulation, the Black Order, suffocation, the list continues. But I didn't. I didn't even consider it. Don't you know why? Can't you solve _this_ riddle? I've given you the answer a thousand times." She pulled him to his feet. 

Harry's mouth went dry as he looked into her brown eyes. "You're not real," he said in a deadened voice. "None of this has been real."

"Why do you say that?" she asked with the real look of curiosity. "You know it has been. You can touch me," she said, taking his hand and putting it on her chest. "You can feel my presence. Your heart beats with mine. We breathe in rhythm. You can hear what I think and I can hear you. We are one, Harry. We fit together." She took his hand from her chest and raised it to her lips and kissed it.

Harry watched her with a grimace but he didn't withdraw.

"My feelings for you have never been false and you know that," she continued.

"You've disguised yourself as Audrey, why not your emotions?" Harry asked coldly.

Audrey smiled. "Love can't be feigned," she told him. "You know I love you. You and Narayan were wondering why I wanted you by my side, weren't you? It's because I love you, Harry. I love you so much."

Harry suddenly realized that his lower lip was quavering and his throat was working to keep from sobbing as he looked into her shiny eyes. She took both of his hands and kissed each of them. "My Harry," she whispered.

Harry yanked back his hands and walked away from her. "And Dana?" he asked loudly, desperately trying to control himself. "Is she just an extension of this delusion? God," he said, tearing at his hair, "they were all right. You are a delusion of mine! Is she real? Is she?" he asked, falling to his knees as if begging for the answer.

Audrey walked gracefully toward him and nodded. "She's as real as you are. She's our princess, Harry. We can raise her away from danger and fear. She's ours."

Harry found enough strength to stand again. "How? Did you rob her?"

Audrey shook her head. "No. I gave her a home after she lost hers. Do you want the entire story now?"

"I deserve it," he replied firmly.

"Yes," she said calmly, "you do." She took two steps toward him, folded her hands before her, and began. "Audrey went away for a week, after her husband died. She was in terrible grief and was going to give her daughter up for adoption, then kill herself. Some spouses cannot live without their other half, Harry. She was one of them. So I approached her before she went through with any of it. I told her that I wanted her life and that I would take good care of Dana. She was so grieved Harry. Her friends had told her that her sadness would ebb away, but it never did. She didn't want to live anymore and she didn't want to pass her grief onto her young daughter. I made her a deal. Her soul exists forever in Ithaca. She's happy there, Harry. Ithaca is safe and it's far from this torturous world you live in. I promised Dana would stay there and grow where she was. In exchange, I took her life."

Harry scowled and felt he might be sick again. "You murdered someone so you could be host to a body?" he asked. "You're just a Venus flytrap, that's all you are!" he said.

"No," she said. "I'm more than that. Harry, Audrey was nothing like me. She was beautiful, yes, but she was jaded and felt the world was against her. Losing Aiden was crossing the line and she didn't want to live anymore. I _have_ been playing host to her body, but my soul is just as real as yours is. I love Dana and I love you. You know the truth."

"You're… You're a monster! That's what you are. You used me! You killed so you could use me!" Harry yelled. "I will not buy into this. You nearly killed me. Your damned Black Order almost cost me my life! Then you put me in prison just to prove your point!"

"No," Audrey said, as she paced the room. "I knew you would survive. One of the only ways to enter Ithaca is through your heart. The daggers are keys. With one, and with your blood, you may enter. The only other way is through me. And I was not the one who put you in prison. Your people did. They were frightened of your power and felt compelled to protect themselves. I had warned you about that, Harry. _They_ proved _my_ point."

Harry felt nauseous again; he balled up, brought his knees into his chest and tried to breathe normally.

"What about…" he started, but had to keep his mouth shut until the feeling passed. "Hermione. Is she alive?" he asked.

"Of course," Audrey said with a benign smile. "I would never kill someone that close to you. Hermione is safe in Ithaca. She's uninjured and waiting to be freed. The Black Order had to give her the key, Harry, just like they did for you."

Harry felt some of the weight lessen as he learned Hermione was all right. But he couldn't get over Audrey's revelation. He wanted to deny it, to keep shaking his head, to tell himself it was a nightmare. But it was real. It was as if he had known it all along. Leucosia was Audrey. Harry had fallen in love with her so deeply he blinded _himself_ to the truth because she had done something no one ever had. She made him so wonderfully happy and at peace. 

Now Audrey stood before him, staring down, probably boring into his mind. But in her current form he could bore into hers. He eased up his chin to lock eyes with her, willing himself to see inside. Either Audrey wasn't trying to put up a barrier, or she wanted him to see, because Harry saw himself in her eyes. 

He was walking with two daggers in his hands, but he didn't know where he was. It was dark, but he kept walking until he saw light break between the trees. He emerged into sunlight and saw, to his astonishment, Hogwarts. Then the vision ended and was replaced by Leucosia's palace in Ithaca.

"You need to rest," Audrey said to him.

Harry inched back into a corner. "That's not possible."

"Yes it is. You will be uninterrupted for hours. The grate is closed off so Narayan can't come prying. I can understand how you feel, but I also know you're very tired. It's been a trying time, Harry. But Hermione is safe. The Black Order will not lay a finger on your friends. There's no more suspense for you. Just come back to bed."

"I will not sleep with you," he growled.

Audrey sat on the bed and sighed. "Nothing's different than an hour ago when you moaned my name. Don't you see, Harry? No one knows you better than I do. No one. You've let me inside your mind, your heart, your life… You risked so much taking me and loving me. I know everything about you, Harry, even your darkest secrets. I know what makes you angry, melancholy, frightened, happy… You've been inside me in more ways than one. I feel and experience your power every time you touch me. Nothing will change because you won't allow it."

"You're wrong," he said.

"I'm never wrong," she replied gravely. "Get some rest." She let her gown drop to the floor then crawled into bed and shut her eyes. Harry pushed himself off the floor and marched out of the bedroom, his step falling heavy to the floor. For a fleeting moment he considered taking Dana and fleeing. But what would that accomplish? Audrey would find them because she was right about one thing: she knew Harry better than he did. In fact, he would wager that she knew he was considering taking Dana and running. 

But he wasn't a runner. 

He walked past Dana's room then into the kitchen. He turned on the kitchen faucet and watched the water flow into the sink. Little by little it filled. The sponge expanded and began to swirl around toward the flow of water.

He married Leucosia. That's how she was winning. That's why she knew everything. That's why she could predict his next move.

The sink was filling up fast. Harry turned off the water and pulled the plug so the water drained away.

What was his next move, now? _Going back into Ithaca_ he told himself. Back to where it all began. Why, he wasn't sure. To rescue Hermione, certainly, but what then? 

Harry looked to the wall calendar behind him. In a few hours it would be October 29th which wasn't as significant as two days after. The thirty-first would be the twenty-third anniversary of his first defeat of Voldemort. He wondered if Audrey had planned it that way. Three years ago he had been with Audrey. Heaven only knew how long she had been watching him before that. 

It didn't matter, though, did it? He couldn't change the past; otherwise he would've done it long before this. If he could change time he wouldn't have known Dana, and he loved her so much. But he wouldn't have missed her if he hadn't known about her. He would've been happy. He would've had a happy childhood, or so he would like to think. A life without fear, without abuse, without hiding from your caretakers, without a prophecy… Harry gazed out the window into the stars. Voldemort was dead and gone, but nothing had really changed. Harry had been so hopeful that it would. 

If anything, it was worse. He married his enemy. He loved her. He had given her his all: his love, his body, his soul. How can you defeat an enemy you still love? 

Jet lights flashed back to Harry from the inky sky, one passing the brightest star just above the horizon. If only he could talk to Sirius.

Just as the thought occurred to him, Sirius's voice filled his ears. _"Remember that I'm proud of you. You can do this. It will be hard, _very hard_, but we know you will do the right thing again. You have a good heart, Harry. No matter how much you mask over it, I know and you know that you care about them, all of them. You were meant to care for them. You were put on earth to counter the evil with your heart. Remember that. They can hurt you in more ways than one, but you will always care for them."_

Sirius had known. He had known all along whom Harry's enemy was. When Sirius said "'She likes Hermione'" Harry thought that he had meant Lily, Harry's mother. But his mother was dead and had never met Hermione before. 

Audrey liked Hermione. She had told Harry twice. Why did Audrey like Hermione? 

Sirius's hint was to never stop loving people, which still confused him. His father had told him to watch his back. Yes, that was good advice, only three years too late. 

"_It will be hard, very hard, but we know you will do the right thing again…_" he heard, echoing in his head, over and over. _Yes_, Harry thought, _Sirius was right_. Because Leucosia in her own form wasn't corporeal so she was impossible to kill. But as Audrey, in the flesh, with a beating heart like his own, beating in rhythm with his… 

Harry screwed his eyes shut tight while a horrible emptiness and pain churned in his gut. How could he kill his very own wife? The mother of his beautiful little girl.

Like a screaming child, his reason told him she wasn't really his wife. Harry bit his lip so hard it began to bleed. 

Audrey was Leucosia, leader of the Black Order who had killed shamelessly and mercilessly. She had killed people like the Minister of Magic, who, though incompetent, would have never harmed anyone. Leucosia, who made Harry terrified, who wanted Harry to believe she wasn't real; who made him beat Hermione and Doctor Simon; who had Hermione stabbed and taken away… She was his enemy and he had always known it. Did her beauty and her ways with Harry make up for all she'd done?

He wiped his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand and sauntered solemnly into the living room where he collapsed into an arm chair and watched the peculiar fire in the hearth. The flames moved peacefully and his eyelids grew heavy. He stared into the fire, allowing himself to be hypnotized by their complex beauty. 

He could rest his eyes, that was permitted… In a matter of minutes his head rolled back and he slept.

But it was a light sleep. In fact, he wasn't sure he was sleeping at all. Strange whispers and blurred figures passed before him. The dark figures were increasing in number and raised their whispers to loud mumbles.

Leucosia's face flashed in his eyes. "Come and fight them," she said, but disappeared as quickly as she'd come.

Harry stirred, thrashing his head against the chair as the figures grew in number.

Harry's eyes opened and took in an unexpected site.

Eight men, all clothed in shiny black robes, their faces hidden by grinning silver masks, stood around him in a semi circle. Harry kept his eyes open halfway and moved his head slightly to take them all into his line of sight.

"Is this what you want?" Audrey asked as she made her way into the group. "Do you want a fight, Harry? Would that make you feel well again?"

Harry felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, but not in fear.

"You can end it all now," Audrey continued. She placed her hands by her chest and slowly pulled back her gown, exposing her chest. "You can take my life and end theirs," she said in reference to the Black Order. "Take it, Harry," she said. "Stop our beating hearts."

Harry's eyes rolled over her face and came to rest on her chest.

He stood, though it took a moment to gain his bearing. Audrey grinned and produced a silver dagger from her pocket and held it out to him. "Take it," she whispered.

Harry reached out his hand, touched the cold weapon with his fingers, then pulled it into his own hand and gripped it tight.

"Good," she said strangely. "Kill me, Harry. If you believe me to be your true enemy, then strike me down." 

Harry remained stationary as Audrey began to pace around him. He did not follow her with his eyes, but examined each member of the Order. They were ready for something, but he didn't know what. They surrounded him where walls did not, and stood with their feet squared, which Harry knew was a defensive position.

Audrey came behind him and wound her arms around his waist. "My soldier," she purred in his ear. "Assessing the battle scene," she whispered, then kissed his neck.

Harry remained firm and rooted to the spot. He tried desperately to free his mind, fearful that she could see his every thought. 

"I know what you want, Harry," she said. "I know what you will do, so why wait? Kill them, Harry," she said softly. "Kill the Order."

He felt his chest rise and fall before he realized he was breathing hard and fast. He clenched the weapon so forcefully that his hand throbbed with pain, and his skin was growing hot; his glasses began to fog.

Audrey stepped away from Harry and moved toward the kitchen. When Harry glanced over to see her, the Black Order attacked.

Harry snapped his head around and thrust both arms forward, expelling electric beams from his palms, which struck all eight men in the gut.

Audrey grinned.

He quickly dropped his hands but rushed forward and drove the dagger into his first victim's stomach. Whoever was behind that mask screamed in horror from the pain. Harry gritted his teeth and pulled down his brow in rage, twisting the knife in the man's stomach. Warm blood gushed from him and flowed onto Harry's hand and arm.

Then three masked men seized Harry and forced him away from their comrade. But they weren't going to take him that easily. If they wanted to go backwards, they would go all the way. Making sure his three captors had a firm grip on him, Harry lunged backwards in one motion; the three men were slammed into the wall. The house shook.

They released Harry as the four remaining Order members drew their wands. Harry reached toward the dagger, which was still embedded in the dead Order member, and it flew into his hand.

A spell was fired. Harry crouched low to the floor but quickly regained his position and threw the knife into the heart of one of the men, who fell to the floor dead. 

Two down, six to go.

Now the air filled with beams of light, being expelled from the enemy's wands, but Harry was too fast to be touched. With the flick of his wrist, and a loud roar in the air, a power they had never experienced rushed at them from where Harry stood and threw them as far as the house walls would permit. He yanked the knife from one body and walked calmly to an Order member who was recoiled on the floor. Harry hoisted him up and plunged the knife in his chest. More blood spilled to the floor as the third victim hollered in pain.

Harry jerked the dagger out of his chest and moved to another. But this man seemed stronger, younger than the rest. He fumbled for his wand as Harry drew near and had it aimed and ready when Harry kneed him in the gut, punched the side of his face, then stuck him in the heart. When Harry was sure the man was dead, he tore the knife from him and turned around to face the remaining men who stood at a safe distance with wands pointed directly at him.

Harry breathed heavily, staring at each masked man with malicious intent, unaware that his hands, arms, chest, and even face were covered in blood. Harry took a step forward and watched the remaining Black Order take a step back. Harry grinned then raised his weapon in the air, as if demonstrating something, when suddenly there were two knives where there once was one. Though they were wearing masks, Harry could almost see the fear in their eyes.

But no one moved. No spell or jinx was fired. Harry only gripped his weapons tighter, waiting for the surprise move. Suddenly, two, one from each side of the defensive stance, rushed at Harry and fired stunning spells, locking curses, even spells Harry didn't recognize. But not one spell even brushed close to him as he walked toward them, swung each knife, sliced their wands, then stuck both simultaneously through the ribs. Harry saw, over the heads of his victims, the remaining two members run the other direction, behind Audrey.

Her expression was difficult to interpret. Her lips showed no sign of a frown or of a delighted grin. Her eyes were passive and soft, like they always were, and they looked upon him without shame, without surprise, and without hate.

Harry wrenched the daggers from the men; they fell to the ground, moaning in pain. He took a deep breath and walked purposefully toward Audrey and raised the knives into the air to plunge them into her. He stood inches before her and brought the weapons down hard and fast.

But they didn't penetrate her heart; they didn't touch her skin; they stopped not more than an inch above her steadily rising chest.

Harry's jaw was trembling while his moist eyes gazed into hers. Soon his hands began to shake, wanting to take some action but unable to accomplish the murderous task. 

Blood dripped down the blades and splattered onto her silver gown.

Now Harry could hear his hoarse breath, his own choked cry; he felt a solitary tear roll down from his eye, leaving a clean streak down his bloodied face.   
He took two paces back when his knees gave way and he crumpled to the ground before her, the daggers clattering to the floor. He tore at his hair as he lay there in a heap; his choked cry quickly became a pained sob which was mingled with an angry roar.

Audrey bent down and cradled him, removing his hands from his head. 

"Shhh," she said to him, caressing his face which was now in her lap. "Everything will be fine," she whispered. "You will come to find me, Harry," she continued, running her hands though his wet hair. "Come and find me and we can begin our new life together."

Harry raised his head to look into her smiling eyes. His entire body was trembling, his teeth chattered, and his tears steadily flowed.

Audrey bent down and kissed the top of his head, then she withdrew from him, stood, and walked backwards and vanished into thin air. Now only Harry and the Black Order remained. The two Harry hadn't maimed or killed walked to their fallen comrades and checked for signs of life. Harry watched them. Of the six who lay on the ground, four were dead. Their contorted and bloody bodies were left behind. The two Harry hadn't successfully murdered were groaning on the ground. They also disappeared into the air, just as Audrey had done.

Harry pushed himself up and began to stand when the two cloaked men picked him up and grabbed him around the throat. But Harry knew they wouldn't harm him.

Harry saw his distorted reflection in their masks.

"They await your arrival," one of them said.

The other stood by and watched.

Harry removed the hands from around his neck and stepped backwards without a word. The two men nodded their heads to Harry then vanished.

He stumbled around the room and noticed the blood stains on the walls, the dead bodies around him. He raised his hands to eye level; they were red. The silver daggers were at his feet. They too were covered in wet blood. Dark blood droplets were on the lenses of his glasses; on the white shirt he didn't remember putting on; pooled on the sweat pants he wore, sticking and soaking through to his skin.

Harry sealed his lips shut and walked slowly down the hall and into the lavatory. He avoided glancing in the mirror and went to wash his hands. The water that pooled in the sink was mixed with suds and a rich red. He was going to start washing his face when a sudden thought occurred to him.

Dana.

He dashed out of the lavatory and ran to her room, knocking down the door to find that she was gone.

"Dana!" he called out. He ran into his bedroom; she wasn't there. He checked the closets, the laundry room, the kitchen, the cabinets; she wasn't there.

"Dana!" he screamed. "DANA!"

But only silence answered.

_Author's Note__: Vampire slayer reference is to Joss Whedon's universe, mainly the television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have used up to date information from the series finale, which explains the multiple slayers._

_Smoking reference: Harry told Vanessa she should be used to the habit because lives in England. I noticed that there was widespread smoking over in England in comparison to California. This is not meant to be offensive, it's an observation I made and Harry as well._

_Reviews: If you ask me questions which I can answer, leave your email address so I can answer them. I cannot stress this enough. I love answering questions and it's frustrating when you don't provide an address. If you're a registered fanfiction.net user, make sure your address is on your profile._


	12. Shattered Mirrors, Broken Shadows

Chapter Twelve: Shattered Mirrors, Broken Shadows

o-o-o-o-o-o

The spectacular rock crevices, which were home to new growth of strange and exotic flowers, could no longer hypnotize Hermione.  They had answered her desperation with consolation and silent promises long enough, and now they could not quench her thirst for freedom. 

            There were subdued voices from behind, and Hermione whirled to face them.  Four men she had previously seen appeared from nowhere and advanced on her.  Hermione casually avoided them.

            "Leave her alone," Audrey commanded from behind them.  The Black Order did as she asked and moved away.

            Hermione bit her lip and took a deep breath of the Ithacan air.  "I knew it," she said in anger.  "I knew it was you."

            Audrey smiled kindly and smoothed her hands against her gown.  "You are unreasonably clever, Hermione.  But that is not why I brought you here months ago."

            Hermione narrowed her eyes on Audrey but did not retort.

            "You are looking well," Audrey said, pacing around Hermione to examine her.  "I trust your stay here has been a pleasant one.  You will be going home very soon."

            Hermione opened her mouth to inquire, but Dana came running from a hidden room towards her mother.

            Audrey beamed and scooped her into her arms.  "There's my darling," she said, kissing Dana's cheeks.  Dana hugged her mother lovingly and returned the kisses.

            "Whewre's daddy?" she asked.

            Audrey smiled then eyed Hermione.  "He'll be here soon," she told her.  She set her on the shiny marble floor and sat on her knees.  "Why don't you go play in the garden, Dana?  Mummy will be there in a while."

            Dana nodded enthusiastically, turned, said a quick hello to Hermione, and ran to the garden where Hermione had just been.

            "You're going to use Dana as bait," Hermione said to Audrey once Dana was out of earshot. 

            "Bait?" Audrey asked as she stood again.  Hermione had never realized how tall Audrey was until now.  "I don't need bait for Harry.  I just couldn't leave her in that house surrounded by violence and death.  No, Hermione, I'm not using you or her for bait.  I told Harry in May that I would take someone, and that was you.  He knows you're alive, and he knows Dana is with me.  Knowing Harry, he's trying to figure out a way to get here as I speak.  He has it in his mind that he'll rescue you and Dana.  But beyond that he's not sure."

            Hermione crossed her arms and stared.  "He won't stay with you now that he knows the truth," she said viciously.

            One eyebrow rose on Audrey's forehead as she smiled pensively.  "You don't think so?" she asked with a malicious grin.  "You think he'll leave with you?  Why, Hermione, why would he do that?  Why would Harry leave paradise for hell?  You think you can convince him to return with you?  To a world that has imprisoned him, that has rejected and persecuted him, that has caused him immense and unbearable suffering, where painful memories plague him?"  She laughed to herself.  "Harry is right.  You hardly know him anymore."

            Audrey began to walk up her spiral staircase but Hermione followed.

            "Harry knows the difference between right and wrong!" she insisted, but Audrey didn't respond.

            "He always does what's right even if it's difficult.  He will not join you, Leucosia!  Harry's a hero!" she said desperately, though she could hear Audrey's cold words echoing in her mind.

            Audrey smirked and paused to face her.  "What _is_ right?  What _is_ wrong?  Is murder wrong, Hermione?  Is lying wrong?  Is succumbing to your desires wrong?"

            Hermione didn't answer.

            "I thought you had it all solved," Audrey responded to her silence.  "Are there different opinions on what is right and what is wrong?  I seem to recall that there are.  One man's wrong is acceptable to another.  It's funny, Hermione, I pinned you to believe in shades of gray rather than black and white."

            "Murder _is_ wrong and you have killed countless and _pinned_ the crimes on Harry!" Hermione said.

            Audrey laughed but continued up her staircase, Hermione following at her heels.  "Wrong again.  _I_ have murdered no one.  The Black Order killed on my orders, including the Minister of Magic.  But I did not accuse Harry of those crimes.  Frankly I'm tired of explaining this.  And if murder is wrong, then I suppose Harry is just as 'evil' as I am."

            Hermione and Audrey reached the top and began down a hall with Grecian arches leading to hundreds of empty rooms.

            "What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her confidence evaporating. 

            Audrey turned to face her with a knowing grin.  "I never entered a competition with you, as you have made this.  I rather thought you were above such barbaric displays of sexual competition.  You know why Harry chose me instead of you?  It's not because of my beauty, it's not because you were too smart, or that I had a child and you did not.  I did more than give Harry what he always wanted." 

            "Hermione, as smart as you are, you know nothing about true love.  You have been polluted with romantic ideas from the culture you live in.  You don't know what real love is.

            "To really love someone, you have to know him.  You have to know what drives him.  You must know his darkest secrets, his innermost desires, and who he is behind the veil.  But more than that, Hermione, he must tell you on his own accord and know you will still love and accept him for who he really is.  He needs to feel comfortable being who he is before your eyes.  But he must also know about you just as you do with him.

            "That is why Harry will return.  It is the reason he has stayed with me, the reason he loves me.  Audrey is not as special as you are, Hermione.  But I accepted him.  I accepted Harry's secrets, and I accept what he does.  I know who he is behind his mask.  But you?  You only know what's on the surface because it is all you wish to know."

            Hermione took a step back and took comfort from the supportive wall.  "Harry's a good man," she told Audrey. She told herself.

            Audrey gave Hermione a pitying stare.  "I suppose he is.  I always thought so, at least.  He has a good heart and good intentions.  But heroes tire of the rescue.  Harry is dark inside.  He is frightened and alone.  All he ever wanted in life was to be truly loved.  But people are scared of what they don't understand and know.  He made it difficult for people, even you, to see past his rough exterior.  He never allowed anyone to get that close.  They thought it was impossible to love someone like Harry, someone as hardened and sharp as he was and still is.  But I saw past it.  I saw the pain and the want within him.  And that was all I needed to do.  There is nothing easier in this world than loving him.  Once I overcame his demons, his failed attempts of blocking me out, his fear of loss, he was free.  He knew I loved him because I accepted his dark.  He knows, even now after I have told him everything, that I still love him.  You do not know him.  You never will.  And that is why he will stay with me."

            "You're wrong," Hermione mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes.

            "Am I?" Audrey asked.  "Right now, Harry is ripping the house apart in search of the keys to enter Ithaca.  He is covered in the blood of my four Black Order members whom he thrashed, stabbed, and ripped in seconds.  He enjoyed killing them.  He tore at them like an animal.  And he wouldn't kill me."

            Hermione stared at her with a stone cold face, trying to maintain her passive expression.  But Audrey smiled.

            "Now," she said lightly, "I have preparations to make before he arrives.  Please excuse me."  Audrey nodded politely to Hermione and walked down her hall. 

            Moisture pooled in Hermione's eyes, but she shut them before the tears flowed.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Agents from the IWBI stormed the secret refuge of the hero the moment the silver firelight extinguished.  They scanned each room, assured that it was safe, and then allowed Ashika Narayan to enter.  She blocked her nose with a white handkerchief to stifle the smell of rotting flesh and carefully approached a body.

            She tilted her head to one side and crouched down.  With her free hand, Ashika pulled off a silver mask and saw, to her strange pleasure, the pale and lifeless face of Kim Philby, the man who had tried to kill her twenty-three years earlier.

            "Director," one of her agents said urgently.  Ashika dropped the mask and turned to him.  "He's down here," he said, signaling behind him down the hall.

            "Have the bodies examined.  Take photos of the walls and of those daggers," she said, pointing to the weapons that lay on the floor beside her.  "I want to know exactly what happened."  Then she followed an agent into the main bedroom.

            Objects were being thrown from the closet into the bedroom.  Those objects included clothes, boxes, and eventually drywall.  Ashika walked forward and peered into the closet to find Harry thrashing the closet walls in a desperate search.

            "Harry?" Ashika said cautiously.

            Harry whirled around with wild eyes.  Ashika grimaced at his face, which was covered in dried blood, as were his clothes.  His entire body was quaking as he watched her and the rest of her agents stare.

            "Where are they?" Harry asked with a hoarse voice.  He turned around and continued searching through the closet.  "Where are they?!"

            Ashika noticed that the entire room, in fact the entire house, was in a terrible state of entropy.  The mattress had been ripped, the stuffing was pulled from the pillows, there were gaping holes in the walls, carpet was pulled, and objects that had once occupied shelves and drawers were strewn throughout the house.

            "Where are what?" Ashika asked calmly.

            "Director," one of her agents whispered into her ear, "there is no sign of the other two."

            Ashika nodded but kept her focus on Harry.  "What are you looking for?" she asked Harry again.

            "The keys!" he screamed.

            "I have them, remember?  I took them back to the Bureau so Dana couldn't access them," Ashika said.

            Harry paused and snapped his head around to face her.  "I need them now."

            "Where are Audrey and Dana, Harry?"

            He leapt off the floor and advanced on her with rage.  Two agents closed on him and pointed their wands at his chest.

            "WHERE DO YOU THINK THEY ARE!" he roared at her.  "BRING ME THOSE DAGGERS!"

            "Did Leucosia take them?" she asked.  "Did the Black Order harm them?  You have to give me answers, Harry.  Try to calm down and give me answers."

            Harry eyed the two wizards who held him at bay with their wands.  He found himself analyzing their stance, the resolve in their faces, and their physical presence.  Neither one of them could take Harry, even on their best day, but what would be the point of fighting them?

            Harry dropped his shoulders and took deep breaths to calm himself.  He would have to be rational and cooperate with her to get what he needed.

            "Good," Ashika said, a note of relief in her voice.  "Just tell me what happened."

            Harry shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, then glanced at the agents.  "You couldn't take me," he told them.  "Just leave us alone, all right?"

            Ashika nodded to her two agents, and they left at once.  Harry placed his hands on his hips, took a few more deep breaths, and then looked her in the eye.  "Leucosia disguised herself as Audrey and has been posing as her for over three years.  She took Dana with her into Ithaca.  Hermione is alive.  There," he said shortly, "you know as much as I do."

            Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly, which was more emotion than Harry had ever seen in her.  "I'm sorry," she said, and it sounded as if she meant it.

            "Yeah," Harry said flippantly, "thanks." 

            She stared at him for several minutes before saying another word.  Harry fidgeted and paced occasionally, then stood before her as if waiting for some comment, which didn't come.  Five minutes must have passed before Harry made the next move.

            "I have to get them out," he said.

            Ashika nodded but stared at him intently.  "And Leucosia?" she asked.

            Harry shrugged.

            "She can be---" but she stopped herself.  "Leucosia has her weaknesses."

            Harry nodded and regarded her with question in his eyes.  "I know."

            "But she also has enormous strengths.  But she is weak in the same place we are," she said gently.  "Her blood flows in Audrey."

            Harry shut his eyes and massaged his temple with his knuckles.  "I know," he said forcefully.  "I know."

            "It will be hard," she said, "very hard.  But you must do it, Harry.  What she has done is only the beginning.  Her full strength and power hasn't even been realized.  You can't give her that power."

            Harry dropped his head and stared down at himself, covered in dry blood.  "I killed them," he said to her.  "I didn't use much magic to do it.  She gave me that weapon, and I slaughtered them like the animals they were."  He ran his hands down his torso; the hardened blood was rough against his palms.  "They deserved what they got," he said to her, searching her eyes.  "Didn't they?  They deserved death for the death they've caused?"

            Ashika considered him for a moment, then nodded intently.  "Justice was done," she told him.  "And you must continue."

            "To murder people?  Is that what I am?  Am I just a murderer?  Or is 'exacting justice' a euphemism for it?" he asked.

            Ashika sighed.  "I've known evil for a long time, Harry.  An evil man, or woman, cannot be reformed.  Sure, locking them away is one option, but there are escapes.  I don't think of you as a murderer.  Think of what those men did.  They took life from fathers and sons, brothers and friends.  The Black Order is not a glorious rebellion set to change the world.  They're nothing more than murderers who take pleasure in killing innocent people.  They have been blessed with Leucosia's power, which is beyond this reality, and had you not killed them, they would have continued to prey on innocent victims."

            "I'm glorified for killing people," Harry mumbled.  "Leucosia knows that.  I've killed six.  I'm twenty-four years old, and already I've killed six people."

            "Six monsters," she corrected him with a cold voice.  "They were hardly people.  There's no other way, Harry.  How else do you fight violence?  How do you stop it?  There is no other way to stop violence except with it.  No just or decent human being wants violence or war, but it is part of humanity.  It has been for thousands of years, and it will never cease.  You cannot go through life questioning those basic principles.  As a species we are capable of such wonderful things: courage, bravery, intellect, and love.  But we are also capable of unthinkable evils.  To every light there is a dark, and to every good there is an evil.  It's the way of the world, and the sooner we accept it, the easier life becomes. 

            "You and I live in the real world.  We see how life really is.  We don't have the luxury of idealistic lives or visions of how the world should be.  You and I know what it takes to stop evil and terminate it.  You have to be a wolf to catch a wolf.  You have to be cleverer, faster, and more determined to exact justice than your enemy is to go against it. 

            "You have been questioned, yes.  The public has battled your methods, they've betrayed you, and they've doubted your sanity and character.  But you must look past that, Harry.  They don't deserve death or a supernatural monarchy for being human.  They need you, and you know it.  And it's not just Dana and Hermione, but the rest of this sorry and helpless world, which will continue to fail and falter and need rescuing."

            Harry watched her determined face and firm stance.  "I had the chance," he said to her, and suddenly his knees felt weak.  "I had the opportunity to kill her, and I couldn't.  How can I kill someone I still love?" he asked.

            Ashika shook her head and sealed her eyes shut.  "I'm not sure," she admitted.  "Leucosia has fooled you.  She has used you.  She has programmed a woman she knew you would love and lived as her.  She took your innocent wish for a family and trapped you.  She learned your weaknesses and strengths so she could fight you.  She planned this, Harry.  You think she did it for love?  She's brilliant.  She incapacitated you while maintaining _her_ power.  She's blinded you, and for that you should be outraged," she told him.

            Harry looked down at the blood again, then left the room so quickly that Ashika was taken off guard.  He marched into the scene of the crime to examine his actions.  There were several Bureau agents snapping photos and writing notes, but they paused to stare at him. 

            Ashika came and stood beside him.  Harry was staring from body to body, a strange expression on his face. 

            "Who were they?" Ashika asked her agents.

            "Kim Philby, Carl Werness, David Peterson, and Ted McVey," one of them answered.

            "Get them out of here when you're finished," Ashika said.  Then she took Harry by the wrist and pulled him back to his room.  "You need to clean up and rest.  I don't care what you think," she said to his frown, "because you have to rest before you go back to Ithaca.  After you've done that, we'll make arrangements to take you to the location---"

            "Hogwarts," he told her.  "The closest I can Apparate to it.  I have to go on foot the rest of the way.  Make sure you bring both daggers to me."

            "If you Apparate, the Ministry will know.  They'll be on you faster than you can imagine."

            "Well there isn't another way, is there?" he asked.  "I won't get caught," he assured her.

            "Except when you return," she replied.

            "With Hermione and four dead Black Order members rotting in this house, I'll be cleared.  I'll make up a story about my escape so you can remain confidential.  Hermione can attest that Audrey is Leucosia and that I wasn't insane.  Don't worry about it.  Just bring me those daggers so I can go in."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Ashika Apparated to a small, secluded street in London.  A few people passed her on the sidewalk, muttering incoherently and giggling at her attire.  She ignored them.  She looked up at the run-down building and saw a sign reading "Flat to let" written in red paint.  She walked inside the building, ran up the stairs to the second floor, and knocked on number ten.

            "Who is it?" came the voice of a man.

            "Ashika Narayan.  Open the door."

            There was a fumbling sound, then the door opened and Ashika slipped inside.

            "What is it?" Ron asked.  He was dressed in a blue shirt, which was torn and ragged on the sleeves, old blue jeans, and a funny looking sweat band around his forehead.  Ashika looked around and noted all the boxes with Ron's belongings thrown inside them.

            "You have to help me," she said.  She reached into her robes and withdrew a silver dagger.

            "What the---?"

            "Take it," she said, pushing it into his hands.

            "I don't want that thing!" he said, dropping it to the floor.  "What's going on?" he asked.

            "Ron, you have to go into Ithaca.  Harry's preparing to go at any time to save Dana and Hermione.  You have to go with him."

            Ron's face froze.  "Her-Hermione?  She's… she's alive?" he asked weakly.

            Ashika nodded.

            "But you said---"

            "I was wrong.  It happens occasionally.  But that's not why you're going, and you need to understand that right now.  You must go to make sure they come home.  All three of them."

            Ron felt himself smiling.  "She's alive," he said.  "My Hermione is alive!"

            Ashika nodded then retrieved the dagger from the floor.  "Make sure they all come home," she said.

            In his relief, Ron missed the obvious.  Ashika took time to word her proposition in her mind, but found it more difficult than she imagined.  By the time Ron sobered, Ashika was biting her lip and staring at him with more determination than she ever had.

            "Dana's in Ithaca as well?" he asked.

            Ashika nodded.  She would let Ron piece the rest of it together.

            "What about Audrey?" he asked slowly.

            Ashika rolled her lower lip back and bit it with her upper teeth, then widened her eyes.

            "Oh God," Ron said suddenly.  "Not this," he gasped.  He took several steps back and collapsed into an armchair.  "Not this," he sighed.  "It can't be true.  It can't be true!" he said to her.

            "It is.  And I think you know it is," Ashika said.

            Ron looked up at her with a green face.  "How's Harry?" he asked.

            "As expected," she replied in stride.  "He's more confident in himself than I am," she said in a funny way.  She walked around an old card table and drummed her fingers along the edge, then prepped herself for a speech.  "There are times in our lives when we must take action.  Certain things must be done.  The Black Order receives its power directly from Leucosia.  Leucosia alone is powerless.  She needs minions.  No," she said, shaking her head, "minions are her leg up.  Once she has Harry, she'll abandon the Order.  She won't need a small group of men bent on destruction and death.  She'll have Harry for that," she mumbled to herself.

            Ron swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but found he had nothing to say.

            "You have to be a wolf to catch a wolf," she mumbled to herself, her mind working slower than normal.  "But who's catching who?"

            Ron didn't try speaking, but pointed at the sharp weapon in her hand.

            Ashika took a deep breath and came back from her musings.  "She must be killed.  She's mortal as Audrey.  But she'll have to parade as Audrey because Dana is there with her, and Harry hates Leucosia in her own form."  Ashika held out the dagger for him to take, but he only stared at it.

            "You're telling _me_ to kill her?" Ron asked, pointing at his chest.

            "I'm asking more than that," Ashika said.  "I am asking you to kill an enemy who is ready to complete herself with a counterpart more dangerous and more powerful than any wizard of the past.  I am asking you to kill the object of undying love of your best friend.  I am asking you to bring him back home, with Dana and Hermione, so we can pick up the pieces.  I'm asking _you_, not Harry, to win this war."

            Ron's face turned from pale green, to ghost white.  He closed his dry mouth and remained motionless, as if unaffected by her triumphant and patriotic speech.

            "If Harry joins Leucosia," she continued, "if he agrees to her proposal, their union will unleash a power this world has never seen.  They are each other, Ron.  And if they are allowed to join, the only possible way to stop their destruction would be to kill one of them, which would result in both of their deaths.  But it wouldn't be possible.  No one could touch them.  Who knows what they would do.  Ron," she said, leaning forward in his face. "She's already completed the first phase.  She's joined to him emotionally and physically as Audrey.  He only needs to say yes to her formal offer, and they will be one entity."

            Ron unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth.  "But Harry is good," he said weakly.

            Ashika nearly laughed.  "Yes.  He is good.  Buried under all of his hostility, pain, and self-hatred, Harry is full of hope and goodness.  I know it's there, and so do you and Hermione.  But he can't see that right now.  Harry wants to ignore it.  He only wants happiness.  Being 'good' isn't good enough for him anymore.  Ron, we can't lose our strongest warrior to the enemy.  _You_ have to kill her.  _You_ have to go into Ithaca by his side, as his best friend.  You are the link to his past.  You must kill Leucosia!" she said.

            Ron shook his head.  "Harry should be outraged," he said.  "Hermione was right all along.  Hermione knew Audrey was playing Harry as a fool!  Audrey used him; she used Harry.  She raped and used him!  Why won't he kill her himself, for taking advantage of his trust?" he asked.

            "He can't," Ashika responded.  "He can't bring himself to do it, so you have to." she insisted.  "Stab her through the heart like she had done to Hermione and like she did to Harry," she said, pushing the dagger into his shaking hands.  "Take it and plunge it into her and end it all."

            "Why me?" he asked, shocking himself with his bravery as he stood to tower over her small frame.  "Why can't you send in some agent?"

            "Harry loves you," Ashika said, unabashed.  "You're his family, Ron.  He looks on you like a brother, not a friend.  Can't you see that?  Can't you see how he treats you?  He knows you'll always be around for him, even if he's cruel.  Friends aren't that comfortable with each other, family is.  You have to help him.  He will let you go with him, and then you must do it. You must kill her, Ron.  He'll hate you at first, but one day he'll know that what you did was right."

            Now Ron stalked around the cluttered flat, breathing and snorting heavily.  "You're insane!" he shouted.  "You're asking me to murder my friend's wife?"

            "I'm asking you to save our world!  Harry will agree to her; I saw it in his eyes!"  
            "Oh," Ron said sardonically, "you saw it in his eyes!  That's settled then.  No problem, I'll kill the bitch!"

            Ashika shut her eyes and crossed her arms.  She forced herself to take deep calming breaths.  She counted to twenty in a whisper, then looked upon Ron with deep respect and request.

            Ron dropped his shoulders.  "Why won't he give her up?" he asked.  "Why won't he leave her?"

            Ashika looked down at the ground as she pondered his question, then smiled when she gazed around his flat.  "I never congratulated you," she said with a smile, completely deviating from the subject, which took Ron off balance.  She marched over to his counter top, seized a large and formal letter, and walked back to him with a huge grin.  "Congratulations, Weasley!" she said.

            Ron frowned but managed to blush a little.

            "You've finally done it.  Years of being in someone's shadow, all your life in fact, and you finally did it.  Bill the Head Boy, Charlie the Captain; Percy the arrogant prick who drug your name through mud; Fred and George, the entrepreneurs, Ginny the first girl for generations; and Ron the Auror in training.  You've wanted this your whole life.  You've dreamed of it.  Everyone knew Harry could do it, but you were just his sidekick.  Just another Weasley.  Now it's your turn for glory.  You made it in," she said, still beaming at him, making him nervous.  "Hermione will be proud.  Your father is smitten, more than he has been with his other sons.  You're bringing honor and bravery to your family.  You won't be in the back of Headquarters.  You'll be an Auror."

            Ron couldn't help but smile a bit.  "Yeah," he said happily, "yeah, I will."

            Ashika continued to smile and nod.  Then she looked at the letter casually and tossed it to the floor.  "Would you give it all up for Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

            Ron frowned.  "What?  What kind of question is that?"

            "Answer me straight, Ron.  Would you?"

            "No," he said instantly.  "What a question to ask!"

            "But you did," she said darkly.  "Tell Harry to give up his wife and family, the people he has wanted his entire life.  Tell him to shrug it off.  After all, he's only wanted a loving family since he could remember.  He's wanted them more than you wanted training or anything else.  He finally got them.  He finally has a home.  To us, certainly it's tainted, but to Harry?  It's bliss.  Tell him to give it all up for a population which has betrayed him time and again."

            An expression of dawning comprehension came over Ron's face.

            Ashika smiled confidently as she watched Ron drop his gaze down to the knife in his hands.

            "He would never forgive me," Ron mumbled, running his index finger over the silver blade.  "Never."

            Ashika sucked in a breath and nodded as she looked upon him.  "Would you rather lose a friend to Leucosia, who would embrace his own darkness to join with hers, or have him hold a grudge against you for stopping him?"

            Ron's eyes started to mist and he began to extend his hand, intending to give the dagger back to her, but she took a step back.

            "You think being an Auror is all about glory?  You think saving the world, or even a select few, is ever easy?  Lives must be sacrificed to save them.  Audrey isn't real.  She's a mirage for Harry, a disguise to trap him, a Trojan horse.  Kill her.  Kill her, Ron, or suffer at the hands of a colossal power."

            "Harry won't become evil.  Harry's good, I remember him when we were boys," he insisted.  "It shouldn't have come to this.  He knows what's right and wrong!" he cried.

            Ashika shook her head in disgust.  "Harry has killed six people, Ron.  And from my perspective, he's not feeling that sorry about it."

            "That Death Eater killed my mother," he said angrily.  "I would have killed him myself but Harry beat me to it.  And Voldemort ruined Harry's life--- he deserved what he got."

            "And the four he killed last night were evil men, just like Leucosia, and _you_ will kill her," she said with such a tone of finality, Ron sealed his lips and held his breath.  She took a few steps backwards toward the door, but kept her eyes locked on his.  "I'll send you a letter by falcon when I want you," she said, then Apparated away.

            Once she was back in the Bureau, Ashika felt she might be sick.  She paced around her private office and held her stomach.  The lights were dimmed, as usual, and it was quiet.  She sat down in her desk and released a tremendous sigh, which did not relieve her or put her mind to rest.  Would Ron do what she asked?  Did he have the courage, the _guts_ to kill Audrey?

            "No," said a voice from behind her.

            Ashika stiffened and held her breath.

            The voice laughed coldly.

            Ashika inched her toes around to face the source of this mysterious, echoing voice. 

            Before her stood a beautiful woman wearing a shimmering gown.  Her skin was so white it seemed to glow.  Her silver white hair, hung at the back of her head in curls, was so reflective Ashika could see her wavy reflection.

            "Leucosia," Ashika mumbled.

            Leucosia smiled eerily and nodded.  "Hello, Mrs. Narayan," she said in the most polite of tones.

            Ashika swallowed and told herself to breathe again.  She couldn't remember the last time anyone had addressed her that way.

            "I will not harm you," Leucosia continued.  "I only thought I might answer your questions."

            Ashika found her legs and stood, though it didn't help intimidate the intruder, as she was quite short.

            "Ron does not possess the strength nor the will power to 'plunge' my own weapon into my heart."

            Ashika regained her composure.  "How did you get in here?" she asked.

            "In where?" Leucosia asked.  One side of her mouth drew upwards in a cruel smile.

            "Here," she responded.  "Here, in my office.  Only I can Apparate in here."

            "Yes," Leucosia said, drawing out her 's' as she began to pace.  "I know.  You learn from your mistakes.  Kim Philby accessed your first office and nearly killed you.  You could not let that happen again.  But here I stand," she said lightly.  "Nothing is impossible."

            Ashika looked up at her light on the ceiling, then down to the floor where Leucosia stood.  Leucosia didn't cast a shadow.

            Leucosia laughed to herself.  "You always astounded me with your intelligence.  No, I am not physically in your office.  I have cast an image in your mind, just as I did with Harry.  I can see everything in your mind, in your memories.  I know what you have planned, what you have done, what you feel…"

            Ashika felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

            "That was me," Leucosia whispered, standing behind Ashika.  "You have everything solved," she continued in Ashika's ear.  "You think you have all the answers.  You do not.  _I_ know the answers to the unasked questions, the unsolvable riddles, and the future."

            "No one knows that," Ashika replied sharply, making an about face to look on her intruder.  "You can't have Harry."

            "I already have him," she said quickly.  "You know I do.  Harry only needs to agree to my contract, and he and I will be one, like you have correctly foreseen.  Your fear invigorates me, Mrs. Narayan.  You have no confidence left in Harry, so you must seek outside assistance.  Weasley does not have the power to strike me down.  He will always reside in Harry's overbearing shadow.  He will not do as you ask.  And even if he did attempt it, Harry would stop him."

            Ashika kept her moving eyes on Leucosia as she paced the small office.  Suddenly a smirk broke out onto Ashika's face.

            "Why are you here?" she asked skeptically.  "Is this intimidation?  Or are you not as confident as you put on?"

            Leucosia paused to stare.  "If Weasley comes he will be in unnecessary danger.  He is not permitted to enter Ithaca and, if he does, I cannot promise his safe return.  Harry is allowed to enter, Hermione is ready to depart."

            Ashika re-crossed her arms and frowned.  "Harry won't go through with it," she said again.

            "Reality will not change if you keep repeating your wishes.  Why should Harry stay here?  Why would he turn me down, me whom he loves?" she said.

            "But he doesn't," Ashika hissed.  "He hates you.  He loves Audrey.  You are not the same and he knows the difference."

            Leucosia beamed so widely her eyes became slits.  "You are mistaken."

            "Am I?" Ashika asked curiously. 

            "I cannot be with Harry in this form, which is our only difference.  He will want the physicality, and I will give him that.  I will give him what he wants in return for giving me what I want."  Leucosia tapped her finger to her own temple.  "I know what you are thinking.  But that is the real way to gain allies.  Give people what they desire most, and they will come running.  Harry will not stay here, and neither would you if I could promise you happiness again.  That is what is so inescapably wonderful about your allegiance.  No one can give you what you really want so you will never falter.  But Harry?  He has what he wants in me.  He could not find it in anyone else."

            "We shall see," Ashika said, shaking from nervousness.  "Harry is a hero."

            Leucosia laughed a ghastly laugh at this pronouncement, sending a painful chill down Ashika's spine.

            "Only the insecure must reassure themselves," Leucosia said.  "Hermione first, then Weasley, now you.  But you really should not worry for too long.  I am sure a new… _hero_, shall rise to replace the old."

            And with that Leucosia dissolved before Ashika into nothingness, leaving her with an overbearing feeling of uncertainty.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Not so far away from Narayan's office, Harry was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he systematically pounded the stuffing out of a punching bag.  A few agents who thought he needed some therapeutic thrashing had hung the bag for him.  Apparently, they were right.  He had been beating the bag for several hours while he waited for Narayan to give him the daggers of Ithaca.  She had told him to calm down and prepare himself before going, but relaxation was far from his mind.

            He flipped around and kicked the bag, which wobbled terribly, then he doubled back and repeated the action.

            A shadow crept in through one of the cave entrances.  Harry watched from the corner of his eye as he boxed the bag.  The shadow belonged to a slender woman, but not Ashika or Leucosia.  This was a woman he had never seen.

            She stood watching him, leaning against the wall of the cave, as he swung another kick at the bag.  She readjusted herself so that light passed over her face and Harry caught a glimpse of her.  She was of average height, but had a fascinating face.  She had shiny black hair, much like his, only it was smooth and long, falling past her shoulders like a black sheet.  Her eyes were crystal blue and sparkled even in the darkness.  Her nose was straight and perfect, and her lips were dark and full.

            Harry relaxed his hands and arms as he stared into her mesmerizing eyes.

            "The Director wanted me to tell you to go to sleep now," she said in a light voice.

            "Yeah?" he said.  "Well I don't march to her drum like the rest of you lot," he said, but he didn't sound rude like he'd intended.

            She took a step forward into the room with him and stood on the other side of the punching bag.  "You're so strong," she said, running her long fingers down the bruised bag.

            Harry didn't know what to say to her in response.  Now that Harry got a better look of her he could tell she had quite a few years on him.  But that didn't detract from her intoxicating beauty, which forced him to be calm.

            She tried to smile at him but her eyes watered instead.  "I'm so sorry," she said to him.

            Harry pulled his eyes away from her and began working on the bag again.  "Everyone's sorry," he said bitterly.

            The woman sighed and nodded in understanding.  "You had better than this," she mumbled.

            Harry tried not to listen to her.  He didn't know who she was, and while she was certainly beautiful to the tenth degree, he didn't care to know her.  What did it matter anyway? 

            She stared at him, in awe perhaps, in admiration and curiosity, as he thrashed and destroyed the bag.  She was still there by the time the bag fell free from its chain and collapsed onto the floor in a heap of nylon and stuffing.

            "Is there something else?" he asked her.  He was sweating, and he knew his face was red with anger and frustration.  Her presence didn't help at all.

            "I told you," she said, "I have to make sure you sleep."

            "I don't follow orders from anyone," he growled.

            "Well you're not going to be up to par against Leucosia if you don't rest.  You have to sleep for Director Narayan to give you those daggers anyway.  I have a room ready for you and some sleeping potion."

            "I won't take your orders either," he said to her.  He pulled of the tape on his hands and wrists and glared at her from the side of his eye.

            "We're only trying to help you," she said.

            Harry smirked.  "Yeah, I'm sure that's all you want to do."

            The woman took a step forward and stared intently at him.  Harry stared back, curious as to what she'd do or say.

            "You have beautiful eyes," she said.  "Really, truly beautiful.  There's no other word to describe them.  It's a pity they're so tired and sad.  I would like to see them as they should be."

            Harry felt a lump in his throat as he stared back at her.  "I had nothing to do with them," he said, looking away again.

            "I know that.  But that doesn't change the fact that they are spectacular, by far your best feature.  And that's saying something."

            "I like older women, but you look old enough to be my mother," he said.  "And that's too old for my taste."

            "Older," she replied in stride, "and hitting on you is not my intent.  I know what you did last night, everyone here does. Everyone has a dark side, Harry.  Everyone.  But there must always be a counter effect.  You're a good man; we all know that.  But do you know that?" she asked.

            Harry squinted at her and pondered the point of her question.

            "I don't know you well enough to have a philosophical discussion with you," he replied, keeping his face indifferent and plain.  "In fact, I don't even have your name. But it doesn't matter," he said as he began to walk out of the room and into a torch-lit hallway.  "I think I'll have that nap right about now.  That should make everyone here thrilled," he said.  "Then you can get off my case and do whatever it is that you do here."

            "Intelligence," she replied as she walked by his side.  "I'm in charge of that sector."

            "Impressive," he said flippantly.  "To hold position in this uninspiring location of paranoid wizards who have nothing better to do than spy on others.  I tip my hat to you."

            The woman made no remark but led him to his own room, which actually appeared quite comfortable.  There was a large bed in the center of the room, with a down quilt atop it.  The room was dimly lit by a soft glowing torch that hung on one wall. 

            Harry walked over to the bed and sat down.  He noticed that a few of his belongings were scattered randomly on a small table to his left.  He felt his eyes sagging with weariness as the day's events stacked up in his mind.  He could not bear to think of the task awaiting him in the near future.

            The woman drew a small vial from her cloak and put it in his hand.

            "I'm sorry," he replied, uncorking the vial.  "I shouldn't have said what I said to you."

            She smiled.  "Get some rest," she said.  "It should give you nine solid hours of R.E.M. sleep.  Sweet dreams," she said as she left him, pulling a dark curtain across his doorway.

            Harry fumbled with the cold vial in his hands, then downed it.  It didn't take too long for the potion to take effect.  He curled up on top of the bed and snuggled his head to the pillow.  As he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, he couldn't help but wish that Audrey was beside him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

He woke up feeling drugged, which was a good feeling admittedly.  He felt as if he could simply roll over and nod off again and dream of pink clouds, green grass, and lollipops.  But the harsh reality of his life struck him, and he forced himself to open his eyes.  It took him a few moments to remember that he was in the Bureau.  Out of habit he looked to his left, but Audrey wasn't there.  Dana wouldn't run into the room and jump on the bed.  In fact, there was no noise at all.  He wondered if the Bureau was deserted.

            He pulled himself up on his elbows and watched the stationary curtain, which served as his door. 

            He had to do it.  It was time.

            Harry rolled out of bed.  He noticed fresh clothes on the table.  He pulled off the dirty t-shirt and tossed it to the floor, then pulled on a black jumper and new trousers.  The clothes were surprisingly comfortable.

            Finally he left the room.  He wanted to find Narayan and get this over with. 

            It was she who found him.

            "Have a good sleep?" she asked and handed him a steaming cup of coffee.  Harry took it and looked at his wavy reflection in the cup.

            "Yeah," he mumbled.  He took a sip and found her gaze uncomfortable.

            "I've stationed agents around the perimeter of Hogwarts for when Ministry Hit Wizards arrive to find you.  Now it's up to you and Ron."

            Harry nodded then shot her a glance.  "What?" he asked.

            "Ron," she replied.  "I'm sending him with you."

            Harry didn't realize he was scowling when he engaged her.  "Why?" he asked.

            "I want him to go," was all she said.

            "Why?"

            "Ron is your friend and needs to help you."

            "Damnit!" he cried, slamming his fist into the wall, which shattered a few stones.  "This isn't between you or Ron!  This is between Leucosia and me, no one else.  How dare you step over your bounds and enter _my_ realm.  I'm not taking Ron with me!" he bellowed.

            Ashika appeared unfazed.  "I've given Ron the daggers of Ithaca," she said calmly as if he'd never hollered.  "The only way you can retrieve them is to have him go with you.  He will not hand them over upon request until you are at the site."

            Harry was dumbstruck.  His mouth dropped incredulously allowing a choked grunt to escape his throat.

            "What the hell," Harry groaned.  "Why are you pushing him on me?  He'll only get in the way!  Why are you doing this?  Do you not trust me?  No," he said shaking his head in anger, "it shouldn't matter.  This is none of your fucking business!"

            "No?" Ashika asked.

            "No!"

            "I seem to remember someone being imprisoned in Vincula with no means of escape.  I seem to remember having the photos of the dagger stolen from the Ministry.  I seem to remember you figuring out that Hermione was probably alive from those photos.  I seem to remember you and your constructed family staying in secret solitude in a home I purchased.  _None of my business?_  You need me, Harry.  You're about to face Leucosia in the flesh, the only way to kill her, and you're bickering at me like a two year old! Ron _is_ going with you.  He's your friend, and he's been with you through thick and thin.  If anything you should be thanking me for giving you support from a close friend whom you have estranged over the years.  Get over it, Harry, Ron's going."

            She crossed her arms and glared at him intently, daring him to continue.

            Harry seethed in silence but did not give her the satisfaction of a reply or a show of gratitude.

            "I would think," Ashika began, "that you would be grateful for a few things.  Mainly that Hermione is alive and that Dana is not an extension of Leucosia's delusional power.  In the meantime, you're standing here bitching at me while you could be reunited with them.  When you return from Ithaca, you'll need to practice acting like a grown-up instead of a spoiled-rotten brat."

            Harry reacted as if he'd been slapped in the face.  In fact, he seemed to become so angry by her callous choice of words that he couldn't form sentences of his own.

            "Ron is in the main entry way," she said, pointing down the hall.  "Good luck to you."  And with that she made an about face and walked the other direction.  It would seem like years before he saw her again.

            Harry made himself take a few deep breaths before he started for the main entry way.  Before he got there, however, the woman who'd seen him last night stepped in front of his path and held before him a long, slender, shiny gold box.

            He took it and gave her a questioning look.

            "It's a new wand.  The Director had it constructed especially for you.  The Ministry of Magic has yours, and she didn't want to risk stealing it.  I daresay you'll need it," she said.

            Harry took the box and opened it.  Inside was a long, shiny black wand.  Harry didn't recognize the material it was made of, but it was special.  He lifted it out of the green velvet lining and held it in his right hand.  The wand resonated in his grip, like it was ready for action.  He couldn't help but smile.

            The woman smiled in return.  "Good luck," she said.

            He nodded nervously.  "Thanks…"

            "Celeste," she replied, with a hint of laughter.  "Celeste Gellar."

            "Right," he said.

            "Watch your back, Harry," she said, then disappeared down a hall.

            Harry looked down at the spectacular wand in his right hand, then stored it on a makeshift wand holster on his outer thigh.  He took a deep breath, her words still reverberating in his mind, and went to greet Ron.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Ron was pacing nervously in the entry way.  His face changed colors twice as Harry watched him unseen.  He had his wand drawn and muttered things to himself.  Harry couldn't make out exactly what Ron was saying.

            "Hey," Harry said from the shadows.

            Ron jumped a little and turned to see him.

            "Hi," Ron said with a delicate smile.

            Harry emerged from the darkness and walked to him.

            Ron looked Harry up and down and nodded at him.  "You look good, I suppose."  Ron made a funny shape with his lips then sobered.  "I'm really sorry about Audrey," he sighed.

            His sincerity was so obvious that Harry had to work extra hard to keep his calm, his indifferent façade functioning, instead of breaking down.

            Harry shook his head at Ron for a long time, meaning to say something, but couldn't.

            "Everything will turn out all right," Ron said unconvincingly.  "You'll get through this; you always do.  Hermione and I will be with you."

            Harry saw that Ron's complexion took on more color when he mentioned Hermione.  He knew Ron was just as thrilled with the news as he was.  But for reasons he knew, Harry just couldn't jump for joy like Ron probably had. 

            "Yeah," Harry said, his throat working horribly to keep from crumbling to bits.  "Yeah I know.  Ron, you really don't need to go with me on this mission.  I'm not sure what exactly to expect.  The Black Order will be there, no doubt, ready to kill you.  You're not invited--- I am."

            "I figured you'd say that," he replied.  "But it wouldn't be a Harry Potter adventure without Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, now would it?" he said with a smile despite himself.  "I want to go with you, Harry.  What are friends for if not to go into a dangerous situation with each other and possibly come out dead?"

            Harry couldn't give Ron a chuckle.  "You got the daggers?" he asked. 

            Ron nodded.

            "Good," Harry said with a sigh.  "Well," he started shakily, "this is it, then.  Ready?"

            Ron turned pale again, but nodded.  "Where are we going, mate?" he asked.

            "Hogwarts," Harry said.  "We'll Apparate into the Forbidden Forest, as close as we can get to the grounds, then sprint through the woods."

            "Will we get to the same place?" Ron asked.

            Harry shrugged.  "I don't know."

            "The Ministry will know---"

            "Yeah," Harry said.  "That I know.  Are you sure you want to do this?  It'll jeopardize your career at the Ministry, associating with a supposed-to-be incarcerated convicted murderer, that is."

            Ron didn't hesitate.  "You're innocent, Harry.  They'll know that by the end of the day."

            Harry let a small sigh go and felt a surge of gratitude towards his oldest friend.  "Thanks."

            Ron nodded.  "Don't mention it.  So…"

            Harry nodded too.  "Ready?"

            "Ready."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Even during the day, the Forbidden Forest was blanketed in darkness.  The tree canopy was so thick, not even the smallest of sunrays could pierce it.  And for that, Harry was thankful.

            Ron and Harry popped into existence in close proximity, which was a bit shocking.  They were no more than fifty feet from each other before they came together.

            "Now what?" Ron asked hastily.

            Harry took a quick look around.  "I'm not sure which way to go," Harry said, turning around frantically, wondering which direction Hogwarts was in.  He pulled his wand from his thigh and held it in his palm.  "Hogwarts.  Point me," he said.

            Normally the wand would've pointed him north, but Harry wasn't in the mood to wonder which direction Hogwarts was, so the wand just pointed toward the castle.

            "Okay," he said, glancing over at Ron.  "Now we run like hell and don't stop until we see the castle."

            "Sounds exhilarating," Ron replied.

            Harry didn't reply.  He broke out into a sprint and left Ron in the dust.  Ron took a deep breath and ran after him.

            Harry wouldn't slow for Ron, who was quite a few strides behind him.  Harry leapt over large rocks and fallen trees like they were low hurdles, ducked under branches before approaching them, and had a glimpse of a familiar hut when the first wand shot whizzed past his ear.

            Harry hit the deck and took cover behind a clump of rocks and looked wildly around.  Ron was running as fast as he could, clutching a stitch in his side.  Harry worried that Ron would be hit by a sniper who was aiming for Harry.

            "Pretend that you're chasing me," Harry mumbled at Ron, who was still a bit far off for him to hear.  Miraculously though, Ron could hear Harry as if he was standing beside him.  Ron raised his wand in defense.  Harry got up from behind his rocks, and sprint again, firing shots at Ron behind him, knowing he'd miss.  Perhaps if the Ministry thought Ron was chasing Harry, they wouldn't risk hitting Ron.

            But it didn't fool the hidden Ministry Hit Wizards for long.  In a few moments there were dozens of red light beams coming from all over the forest, most of them aimed at Harry.  But he didn't dare stop, and he was confident Leucosia would ensure his arrival in Ithaca.  It was Ron Harry worried about.  He had the keys.

            Harry could see the Quidditch pitch through a clearing of trees.  Harry chanced a look behind him and saw Ron in the distance, slowing his pace.  Harry had to come to a screeching halt and help Ron along.  He took cover from a tree and aimed his wand at Ron's small body. A short shot of blazing white issued from Harry's wand and struck Ron in the chest.  Instantly Ron's speed increased ten fold, as if his legs were moving completely independently from his body.

            Suddenly a dark red beam of light hit Harry's shoulder.

            "AHHHGRRHHHH" he howled as he crumpled to the ground, clasping his right shoulder, which bled freely.

            "Harry!" Ron yelled from behind, but was standing over Harry in seconds.

            "The bastards shot me," Harry groaned.  "Fix it quick!"

            Ron fumbled with his own wand, turning green at the sight of blood, and mumbled a spell under his breath as he pointed the wand at Harry's shoulder.

            "Is that the right spell?" Ron asked him.

            Harry was still in a great deal of pain, but he looked over and noted that the skin had healed, or at least appeared healed.

            "Apparently.  Where are Narayan's agents she promised?" he asked.  "We're bloody surrounded.  You've got the daggers ready?  We won't have much time to open the door with these pricks firing at us."

            Ron fell to the ground to avoid a curse, which flew over his head, just missing him.  "I thought you had super wizard powers, Harry, use them!" Ron said.

            "I can't see the wizards!" Harry yelled.

            "Just fire everywhere!"  
            "Shut up and find those daggers!"

            Ron fumbled around his pockets as Harry crawled to a more secure location.  "If you don't have them I'll strangle you!" Harry hissed.

            Harry looked frantically through the woods for his attackers, but to no avail.  "Ah sod it," he groaned.  He leapt up and fired his wand, as Ron said, everywhere.  A great reverberating beam, which ripped through the air in a _roar_, flew from Harry's wand and whipped across the trees like a shock wave, and hit several people whom Harry hadn't even seen.

            Harry pulled the wand to his eyes and grinned.  "Wow."

            "Harry!" Ron said, showing a dagger in each hand.

            He ran over to Ron and picked him up off the ground and ran towards Hogwarts again. 

            In a few long minutes, they reached the forest's edge.  Hogwarts was clearly visible, as were its students.  The bell had just rung signaling the break.

            "Right," Harry said, looking behind him for the Hit Wizards, who were not chasing them any longer.  Ron was buckled over and out of breath.  Harry wasn't even sweating.

            "Now---what---do---we---do?" Ron gasped.

            "Find the doorway," Harry answered.  "Come on."

            The two walked briskly, (Ron panting) in and out of the forest in search of the doorway.  The problem was Harry had no idea what it looked like.  Finally he stopped and took the two daggers from Ron and held one in each hand, replicating his short, vague vision.

            "Come on," Harry mumbled to himself as he paced around in a circle.  "Come on, Leucosia.  Let us in."

            But nothing happened.

            Then Harry heard voices in the distant---voices of the Ministry Hit Wizards.  Harry was ready to turn and begin the fight, but at that moment the weapons in his hands grew hot and vibrated.

            "What the---" Harry said.

            He loosened his grip, and they slipped from his fingers, flew into the air, paused, and merged into one single blade.  Ron came up next to Harry and watched. 

            The voices from the Hit Wizards grew louder.

            The now single dagger sliced into the air and slowly dropped to the ground, ripping a fissure into the atmosphere, thereby creating the door into the parallel realm.

            Harry turned to Ron.  "Go," he said, indicating his head toward the door.

            Ron didn't hesitate.  He walked right in as if he'd done it hundreds of times before, and Harry leapt in after him.  But he did one thing he did not do on his first journey; he pulled the dagger of Ithaca out of the fissure, insuring the Hit Wizards could not come inside after them.

            After Harry had the weapon in his hand, he fell into neck high seawater, deeper than he remembered it being before.

            "Ron?" he called.

            "Harry?" Ron called from beside him.

            Harry flipped around and saw his red-haired companion and sighed.  They were in.  There was no sign of their own dimension behind them, so Harry knew they were safe from the Ministry's wizards.

            "Now what?" Ron asked.

            Harry stuffed the dagger into his back pocket and started pivoting around in search of Ithaca.

            And just as before, the immense palace, carved from a cliff side with an impressive cascading waterfall, greeted Harry from a two hundred meter distance.

            "Wow," said Ron, who was staring wide-eyed with a gaping mouth at the palace.  "Harry, it's beautiful," he continued.

            Harry didn't answer.  He began his swim toward Ithaca and he could hear Ron paddling beside him.  He watched the palace as it came closer to him.  The bright sun struck it in such a way the palace seemed to shine.  The rounded pillars with their Corinthian orders, pediments, and statues looked to be made of the finest marble.

            Harry's knee hit the surface.  He pushed himself up and began walking, the water pulling against his movements making a _slosh_ noise.  Once he was out of the water, he waited for Ron who came beside him shortly.

            "Harry," he said, tentatively. 

            Harry turned to see him.

            "I know you've heard it from everyone, but I'm sorry for doubting you about this place," Ron said.  "It wasn't much, but I did doubt you a little."

            Harry wasn't in much of a mood for apologies.  "Thanks," he said simply and stared toward the waterfall, searching for the crevice.  Ron armed himself and walked behind Harry.  They sidestepped past the waterfall and entered the dark cave.

            "Lumos" Ron mumbled, giving him a bright blue-white light from his wand.  "You know where to go?" he whispered to Harry.

            It was hard for Harry to listen to Ron as his ears and heart pounded with an annoyingly loud rhythm.  His lips were dry and trembling a bit, but he tried desperately to ignore them.

            "Sort of," Harry said.

            They came to the cave's end where the spectacular skylights shone down on them.  The same sphinx patrolled the main corridor and smiled when she saw Harry, but chose not to notice Ron.

            "You may pass," she said to Harry, then sat down and let Harry through, without fanfare.  When Ron automatically walked with Harry, the sphinx roared so loudly Ron covered his ears.

            "You may not," she said to Ron.

            Ron stepped back a bit and threw Harry a look of inquiry.

            "Doesn't he get a riddle?" Harry asked the sphinx.

            "If you would like," she replied to him, then turned to Ron who now looked as pale as death.  He wasn't too good at riddles; that was Hermione's avenue.

            The sphinx took a menacing step toward Ron and gave him a riddle to solve.

_"An uninvited guest stands here_

_On his face is apprehension and fear._

_Uninvited you are, but present you remain;_

_If you solve my riddle you will not be slain._

_Virtues are many, but valuable are few_

_This one is quite old, but rarely in use._

_It has come to my lady and given her bliss_

_She has waited long for love's first kiss."_

Ron stood waiting to hear the rest of the riddle, but apparently that was all he got.  Harry knew the answer immediately, having discussed it with Ashika many times.  But Ron was lost.

            "Can I ask questions?" Ron asked the sphinx.

            "Just _wait_, Ron, and consider it _slowly_," Harry told him with raised eyebrows.  He wasn't really sure why he was waiting for Ron at all.  Hadn't he been angered that Ron was joining him?  Harry could just turn and run to find Dana and Hermione, but something was keeping him with Ron.

            "Right," Ron said, having received Harry's clue.  "A virtue," he mumbled to himself.

            "Take your time," Harry said sardonically.  He didn't have the virtue just this moment.

            "Oh!" Ron said, snapping his fingers together.  Harry prayed he knew what it was.  "Patience!"

            Grudgingly, the sphinx stood aside and allowed him passage.  Ron was tickled pink that he solved it.  Harry couldn't muster much enthusiasm.  The sphinx's riddle was weak, as was her defense of the palace.

            Ron had to ignite his wand again as they walked in shadow.  Harry didn't bother pulling out his wand; he wasn't in danger.  Finally Harry saw the bright stairs.  He mounted them and found himself where he first met Leucosia---well, where he'd met her in her real form.  The spiral staircase to their right was empty.  The hallway to the left was just as bare.

            "Okay," Ron said strangely.  "Where is everyone?"

            Harry shrugged nervously.  This was not like Leucosia.  Something was off, and he wasn't sure what.  "Dunno."

            "A bit anticlimactic, eh?" Ron said, his wand still steady in his hand.

            Harry nodded.  "Yeah.  A bit."  He walked straight toward the botanical garden and saw thousands of plants but nothing else.  Harry rejoined Ron but kept averting his eyes as if Leucosia would suddenly pop into view.

            "Now what?" Ron asked.

            "We split up and look for Dana and Hermione," Harry said automatically.  "Leucosia will find me.  And I'm sure she won't hurt you if she knows what's good for her.  You search down here, down that hall," Harry said, pointing to his right down a brightly lit hallway.  "I'm not sure what's down there, but there must be something.  I'll go upstairs."

            "And the Black Order?" Ron asked, trying not to sound frightened.

            "Well," Harry said, "if there were eight originally, then only four are living.  But Leucosia might have more than that.  If you find them, run the other way.  But, as of now, I'm not sure that you will find them.  This is very strange."

            "You got that right," Ron said.  They would both feel a little more at ease if they encountered some kind of resistance.  The sphinx had been a weak barrier, and it made Harry queasy.  He knew it would be easy to get in, but it was nerve racking that anything was this easy.  Ron wasn't even supposed to be here, but he was.  No one seemed to care about it.

            "All right," Harry said as he walked to the spiraled staircase.  "Oh."  He turned around to see Ron.  "Be careful and watch out for a weird looking lion prowling around.  Good luck."

            Ron began down the hallway.  Harry watched him for a moment, then jogged up the stairs, which led to a hallway just like the one downstairs.  Harry frowned but walked along confidently.

            "Dana?" he called out despite his cautious approach.  His voice echoed spookily---it gave him the chills.  He checked the vacant rooms that lined the peculiar hallway, but there was no sign of her.  "Dana?" he called again, louder this time.

            He drew out his wand and moistened his lips.  "Dana!"  The temperature dropped as he walked further into the corridor.  His footfalls echoed off the walls, even though he was walking as quietly as he could.  If the Black Order was hiding in one of the rooms, they could hear him coming even if he weren't yelling.

            "Dana!" he yelled again, this time a little angrily.  "Hermione!"

            Where were they?  Where was anyone?  Harry picked up his pace and searched the rooms by just ducking his head inside them.  But there was nothing in any of them and it was vexing him.

            "Audrey!" he bellowed.  "Where the hell are you?"

            There were running footsteps up ahead and to the left.

            Harry ran after them and came to a 'T' in the corridor.  He turned left and ran in search of the owner of those footsteps.  But there was no one.  Harry sighed and furrowed his brow in frustration.  He walked briskly down the corridor and finally came to a very strange circular room with an arched doorway for the entrance.  He went inside.

            What greeted him was not Leucosia, the Black Order, or Dana and Hermione but a reflection of himself.

            He was standing there, staring, looking healthy and rested.  His shiny black hair fell down into his eyes a bit, a few strands dangling over the rims of his glasses.  He wasn't sure what was mesmerizing about this mirror, but he couldn't pull his eyes from it.  He took a few steps closer.  He could see, even through the dark jumper, his tensed muscles. 

            He heard the footsteps running again.  Harry snapped his head around and saw a flash disappear from view, as if running around a corner.  Harry walked toward it but was encountered by another mirror, this one different from the previous.

            This mirror showed Harry wearing the same clothes, but looking quite different.  His reflection was smiling.  But Harry knew _he _wasn't smiling.  Harry made some gestures to assure it was a mirror, and his reflection duplicated him.  But his face was blissful.  His reflection wore such a brilliant, happy smile and he was sure he'd never been that happy.  It was creepy.  He walked away from it.

            It was like he was in a hall of mirrors at an amusement park.  But he wasn't amused.  Everywhere he looked there was a mirror.  He grasped his wand and was ready to point it at one of the mirrors to destroy it, but one reflection said otherwise.  Harry's mirror image was holding a bloodied knife.  Harry held his breath as his line of vision traced up to the face.

            This reflection, too, was grinning.  But it was a different kind of grin; it was a vengeful grin, the face covered in blood, and the image appeared to be enjoying the sensation of the blood it was covered in. 

            Harry shook his head at it, but the reflection nodded slowly, his grin widening, his eyes transforming from brilliant green to fire red.

            "No," Harry said, raising his wand again.  "_OBLITERATE!_" he yelled, and the mirror shattered.  He took a few labored breaths as he stared down at the sharp pieces of the shattered mirror.  He didn't want to think of what he just saw, himself smiling at the kill.

            Harry forced himself to look away from the reflective fragments and focused on the path that supposedly led out of this mirrored hall.  Harry emerged from the hall of mirrors and entered---another hallway.

            "Okay," Harry said angrily, "this is tiring."  He marched down the hallway, his wand securely in his hand, a pounding in his ears.

            But it wasn't tiring for long.  He had started examining the vacant rooms again when someone yelled at him from the other end of the hallway.

            "Harry!"

            Harry flipped around and saw, to his great astonishment and relief, Hermione.  She was walking toward him slowly, as if surprised and caught off guard at the sight of him.  But Harry could see, even from the distance, that she was beaming and her eyes were sparkling with tears of happiness.

            A strange sensation took residence deep down in his gut.  He knew what it meant, but ignored it for the time being.  He holstered his wand and started for her, his brisk walk becoming a jog, which in turn became a run.

            "Harry," she mumbled, running for him though her legs felt weak.  When she was within feet of him, she threw herself into his arms.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his waist and immediately burst into tears and sobs.

            For a while neither of them said a word.  Harry held her as tightly as she held him.  He could feel her warm tears trickling down his neck, but he wouldn't dare mention it.

            "I thought I'd lost you," he finally managed.  "We thought you were gone."

            Hermione, sniffing, but happy, pulled back to look into his eyes.  Her face was streaked with tears, but she was grinning at him.

            "I knew you would find me," she said.  "I knew you would."  She ran her hands through his soft hair, then planted kisses all over his face, glad that he didn't resist her.

            "Hermione!" came another male voice from down the hall, where she had just run from.

            Hermione released Harry and slid down, then turned to see Ron coming at her. 

            "Ron!" she cried, and embraced him tightly when he got to her.  "I missed you so much," she sobbed into Ron's shoulder.

            Ron was beyond words, like Harry had been, and held her for several moments.

            "We thought you were dead.  We thought you were dead, Hermione," Ron muttered shakily, a few tears falling down his own face.

            Harry began to smile at Hermione when he saw, over Ron's hunched shoulders, Audrey, dressed beautifully with a shining silver laurel crown on her head.  His growing smile faded away.

            Ron saw Harry's expression and released Hermione.

            "What is it?" Ron asked Harry.  Hermione whipped around to stare at him, then they both followed his gaze to Audrey.

            Audrey walked toward them; her footfall didn't leave an echo behind her.  She smiled lovingly at Harry and came to a stop just before she reached the three of them.

            "You came back," she said.

            Hermione stiffened and moved in front of Harry in a protective fashion.  "Get away from us."

            Audrey ignored her.  "You're later than I expected, Harry.  Did you have trouble finding the way in?  Did the Ministry wizards hinder you at all?"

            Harry took a deep breath and held it.  "No," he replied.

            Audrey cocked her head to one side and smiled again.  "I'm glad to hear that.  Dana has been asking for you.  She's been wondering where you were and what was taking you so long.  I told her you were on your way.  She's safe," she said, noting the apprehension on his face.  "She's playing in her room as we speak.  It'll give us time to talk things over."

            Harry cleared his throat.  "Talk what over?" he asked.

            "You know what," she replied, dropping her head a little.  "Our future."

            Hermione took a brave step forward.  "He won't join you." she replied angrily.  "He can see right through you!"

            But Audrey didn't take notice of her.  She was staring so intently at Harry it was as if Hermione and Ron didn't exist---that it was only her and Harry standing in the palace of Ithaca.  Her gaze never broke from his.  He found that he couldn't look away from her.  He could hear, only vaguely, Hermione protesting and perhaps even tugging at his arm.  But Audrey's warm brown eyes were intoxicating him.

            Audrey's eyes crinkled into a beaming grin; she walked closer to him.

            "Stay away!" Hermione said.

            Audrey glanced down at her as if she were a slug.  "Quiet," Audrey said to her.

            When Hermione tried to yell back at her, she found she couldn't.  She clasped her throat and stared at Audrey in amazement. 

            "Let the adults handle this, Hermione," Audrey said then turned her attention back to Harry.  "I see you brought a guest," she said, flickering her eyes momentarily to Ron, then back again to Harry.  "Narayan pushed him on you.  And I know what his mission is.  It's a pity that you feel telepathy is a curse.  It only takes a steady gaze into Ron's eyes," she said, turning her full attention to Ron's nervous face, "to realize what he really _intends_ to do to me.  Even if you had the courage to do it, Ron, you would not have the strength.  You do not possess that kind of determination, I'm afraid," she said.  She lifted her palm toward him and a silver dagger flew out of his robe pocket and into her hand.

            Harry scowled at the weapon then turned to Ron to give him an incredulous stare.  Ron broke his eyes away from Harry.

            "Narayan sent him to kill me," Audrey said as if amused.  She rubbed her hands on the dagger and it vanished into thin air.  "Harry won't let you do that, Ron."

            "Is it true?" Harry asked Ron, though he wasn't sure why he asked.  Audrey was being very truthful.  Ron slowly looked back to Harry and nodded.

            "This has nothing to do with you!" Harry yelled at him.

            Audrey smirked and took a few steps backward.

            "She doesn't believe you'll kill Leucosia!" Ron fired back.  "You're blinded, Harry!  Audrey's a killer!"

            Hermione was nodding, clearly siding with Ron, but Harry didn't want to listen.  He moved away from them.

            "Hermione," Audrey said kindly, "you have something to add?"

            "Harry," she said, her voice functioning properly again, "she's trapped you.  Just walk away from her.  She killed the Minister of Magic, Harry, and countless others who had nothing to do with her.  They weren't even in her way.  They died for nothing!  You can't ally yourself with her just because she's tricked you into loving her!"

            Audrey moved to Harry and ran her hand across his shoulders and back.  "Tricked?" she whispered as she stood beside him and laced her fingers in his.  "Do you think I tricked you, Harry?" she asked, leaning her chin on his shoulder.

            He turned his head to look at her.  Those soft brown eyes gazed adoringly into his.  A wonderful squirm moved in his stomach as he stared at her. 

            Her full lips drew up into a smile.  "You know I didn't trick you," she whispered.  She walked to stand in front of him and ran her hands up his chest.  "You know I love you," she said, staring intently into his eyes.  "You have known it for years."

            Harry said nothing but looked back at her, his throat working.

            "You prayed for me," she continued, wrapping her soft arms around his neck.  Her whisper dropped even lower.  "You cried into the night because you were so alone.  They moved on with their own lives, Harry," she said and Harry knew she was speaking of Ron and Hermione.  "You didn't blame them, and you still don't.  But you couldn't stand it any longer, remember?" she asked delicately.  "Remember how you would go to your flat in London and huddle in a dark corner and cry?"

            Harry swallowed and felt his eyes burning.

            "No one noticed," she continued.  "No one saw how miserable you really were.  Hermione had her family to go to during the holidays, and Ron did as well.  So you were left alone, again.  You had saved them, Harry," she whispered, pulling herself closer to him and speaking so softly he could barely hear her.  "You were the hero of the world.  But you were twenty years old and completely and totally alone in the world, the world you saved.  That's when you tried something you hadn't attempted in many years.  You prayed, Harry," she said with a growing smile.  "You didn't even know that's what you did.  You pleaded into the night to be happy.  You prayed for _me_."

            Audrey smiled up at him making Harry feel warm again.

            "You knew who and what I was," Audrey whispered.  "You knew all along but you wouldn't allow it to bother you.  Nobody is perfect, you told yourself.  But I was somebody.  I loved you and you knew it.  You knew it because you didn't recognize that feeling I was giving off.  You didn't know what it was, but you knew it was wonderful.  It had to be love.  You knew it.  It was that feeling people sang about, devoted poems to.  You knew you would do anything for me, and that I would do anything for you.  Nothing's changed, Harry," she grinned.  She inclined her head towards his and brushed her lips against his.  "I will always love you.  You're sure of that."

            Hermione's vision began to blur and a queasy feeling in her stomach made her feel faint.  She turned to Ron, who looked concerned, and grabbed his hand.  He ripped his eyes away from Harry and Audrey and turned to her.

            "We're losing him," she mouthed.

            Ron said nothing.

            "Harry," Hermione said weakly.  "Harry think about this."

            But Harry wasn't paying her any attention. 

            "This isn't right, Harry," she continued.  "Audrey isn't real.  She's Leucosia in a fitting disguise.  She's seducing you so she can get what she wants from you.  She wants to take you away from us, Harry!" she was yelling now, hoping she'd capture his attention.  "We love you!  Don't you know that?  We've known each other for most of our lives.  We've been through so much together!  You can't abandon us, Harry.  Ron and I are real.  That woman standing in front of you is an illusion.  She's given you everything you want but for a terrible price!"

            Audrey smirked but remained focused on Harry.

            Finally Harry looked over Audrey's head to Hermione, whose face was streaming with tears.

            "Harry," she said.  "Harry please!  You can't do this!  She's not real, Harry.  You're so much better than she is!  She's just a cold-blooded killer out to take over the world, like Voldemort was!  But she doesn't want you dead; she wants your body and your power for herself!  Don't you see that?" she cried.  "Can't you see that she's been using you, playing you for a fool?"

            He dropped his head back to Audrey and looked skeptically on her.

            "Cold-blooded killer?" Audrey whispered to him.  "She doesn't know what you've done and enjoyed doing, does she?  You're a killer, just like me.  I can see it in your eyes, Harry.  I can see your thirst for power."

            "She's evil, Harry," Ron said this time.  "You're not like that.  She had people killed to trick them into thinking that you did it.  She had you stabbed and nearly killed you.  She killed the Minister of Magic.  She's evil."

Audrey turned around and laughed at Ron.  "Evil, am I?" she asked.

            "Yes," Hermione replied sternly, balling her hands into fists.

            "You think Harry doesn't know who I am?  What I am?  He's known all along, Hermione.  Look into his eyes, those big beautiful eyes, and tell me you can't see the truth.  He knows."

            Hermione broke away from Audrey and checked Harry.  He appeared solemn and in deep thought.  "Harry," she said gently, "come back with us."

            Audrey flipped around to him.  "Are you going to leave me, Harry?  Do you really want to go back there?" she asked flippantly, almost giggling at the thought.

            Harry took a step back away from them all and said nothing.  He'd never been as happy as he was with Audrey, she was right about that.  But the woman who stood before him was his enemy, and though he wished to be with her for the rest of his life, he knew she was the villain. 

            As if reading his mind Audrey spoke.  "I can see through you Harry.  I know what you want.  I know what makes you happy. I know what makes you angry.  I know who you _really_ are.  _I _make you happy.  Don't you want to be happy, Harry?  Isn't it _right_ for a person to be happy?  Don't you deserve that?  It's wrong to be unhappy, isn't that right?  What's right is what brings you joy.  Me, Harry, me and Dana make you happy.  We're right for you."

            Audrey stretched out her hands and intertwined her fingers with Harry's.  "Come and join me," Audrey declared.  Her eyes over bright with anticipation, she stepped closer to him and kissed his cheeks.  "The world is ours, Harry.  Who can stop us?  You know the power we both wield outweighs everything they have!"

            Harry shut his eyes and nodded.

            "They are beneath us," Audrey said in hushed tones.  "Look at what they've done to you.  They don't deserve your protection; they deserve your strong hand."

            Harry took back his hands and ran them through her soft hair.  His thumbs caressed her pink cheeks, then her full smiling lips.  Audrey covered his hands with her own and closed her eyes.

            "Come with me," she whispered.  "We'll be one forever."

            Harry shut his eyes once more and leaned his head on hers.  He felt her smiling. He heard her happiness. He saw himself through her eyes.  His steady breathing matched hers.  "Thank you," he whispered to her.  "Thank you for loving me."

            Audrey clasped her hands around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.  She grinned; Harry felt it.  He matched her passion as he kissed her with a hungry desperation.  Her warmth and tenderness, though he'd experienced it for years, still seemed foreign to him.  Her touch made him feel alive again, made him feel as if he had some sort of purpose, like he was needed.

            Audrey pulled back on his lips then released him with a short exhale of perfumed breath.  "Harry we'll be so happy together," she mumbled.

            Hermione, meanwhile, stood aghast with Ron holding her up.  She continued to shake her head and her breathing labored under the image she saw.  "No," she whispered to herself.  "No."

            Harry lifted his head and kissed Audrey's forehead, then the bridge of her nose; finally he planted a last kiss on her lips.  His lips quavered as he opened his eyes to look in hers.  "I love you," he said, his fingers massaging her scalp. 

            She grinned knowingly and kissed him once more and embraced him, holding him so tight he thought she'd never release him.  He heard Hermione's mantra and felt Ron's disbelieving glance.

            "Our life has opened up," Audrey said to Harry, as she held onto his face.  "We'll be forever!" she cried happily.

            Harry took her hands from his face and pulled them down.  A corner of his lips drew up into a sad smile.  "No," he mumbled so quietly he barely heard it himself.

            Audrey's grin flickered.  "What?" she asked.

            Harry screwed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths before facing her again.  "I can't," he mumbled.

            There was a momentarily silence.

            "You can't?" she repeated, her warmth evaporating. 

            Harry opened his moist eyes to face her and began shaking his head.  "I," he started but choked himself.  He had to concentrate on his breathing as he looked back at her.  "I have to-" he managed, though he started to tremble.  "I have to go."

            Audrey took a few steps backward and scowled viciously at him.  "You can do whatever you want to do, Harry," she said darkly.

            Harry stiffened himself and shook his head at her.  "No I can't," he said, his eyes misty.  "That's not the way it works."

            "It can be!" Audrey yelled, the first time she ever had yelled.

            Harry took a deep breath and sighed.  "If only you were right," he replied.  He was making a point of breathing steadily and forcing himself to look at Ron and Hermione, who were giving him encouraging expressions.

            "I'm always right," Audrey insisted.  "Don't you want to stay here?" she asked with a note of hostility.

            "Yes," Harry admitted.  "But I can't.  I cannot agree to what you propose, no matter how badly I want to stay with you."

            Audrey's satisfied grin crept back to her lips.  "But you do want to be with me," she said.

            "Yes," he replied, trying to remain indifferent, which was becoming impossible.  "But I won't.  This is not how it will be, and I think you know that.  You said you'd only extend your offer twice, and so you have.  I've turned it down twice.  So I guess the ball's in your court now.  If I won't join you, what is left for you?" he asked.  He kept a stiff lip and a firm glance, but Hermione could tell his wall was breaking.

            Audrey's grin faded and she looked back at Hermione and Ron.

            "You can't hurt them," Harry said.  "You know I won't let you."

            She nodded then slowly turned away from him and began walking.  "You're right," she said as she continued on her way.  "I will not harm any of you.  But _they_ will."

            Ron turned his head to Harry, but Harry was watching Audrey go without fuss.

            "Harry?" Ron said, but Harry didn't listen.  He followed Audrey with his eyes until she came to a corner and turned down one of her countless hallways.  But before she entered it, she looked back and gave Harry a sad smile and a wave.  It took a refined resolve for Harry not to run after her.

            "Harry?" Ron repeated.

            "What?" Harry asked, his eyes on the spot where Audrey had just been.

            "What did she mean by 'they'?"

            Harry shrugged, not really caring what she'd meant.  "I don't know.  There are only four of her minion left and three of us, so that won't be too threatening."

            There was a rattling sound behind them.  All three of them whirled around.  Harry and Ron raised their wands.

            "Okay," Hermione said tentatively.  "So how does one leave this place?"

            Again, Harry shrugged.  "That's the thing, actually.  Last time I went to hit Leucosia but then I was at the Burrow, hitting you thinking you were her."

            "Oh," Hermione said in a would-be casual voice.  "So we have no idea?"

            "Right," he said. 

            "That's great," she said in a high-pitched voice. 

            Harry continued to scan the corridor for that mysterious something which lurked just out of his visual range.

            "We're not leaving yet anyway," he said, looking back at them.

            "And why is that?" Ron asked, his hand shaking.

            "Dana.  I'm not leaving without her.  If Audrey thinks she's keeping my little girl, she's severely mistaken," he said, though he didn't sound very angry with Audrey, as he wanted to be.

            "Yes, Harry, but we have no idea where she---"

            Harry covered Hermione's mouth with his free hand as he heard someone, or more precisely, something approaching.  That something was followed by more somethings, but the sounds came from all around them.

            "Those rooms were all empty," Harry told himself, though the banging and pounding told him otherwise.

            Finally, emerging from the darkness ahead of them came the silver lion which had haunted his dreams just months ago.  It slinked toward them with a menacing gaze, and Harry could hear the beast snarling at them.

            "_Impedimenta!_" Harry yelled at once, but the lion was unaffected and appeared angered by the action.

            "Nice kitty," Ron said.

            "Ron, that never works, haven't you seen movies?" he retorted.

            Instinctively, Harry began backing away, Hermione and Ron mimicking him.  But then figures, draped in cloaks of black, adorned with eerie masks, filed out of the once empty rooms that aligned the corridor.  And there weren't just four.

            They mass of black surrounded them.  Harry couldn't believe the Black Order was this expansive, but he quickly got over his shock.

            "Harry," Hermione whimpered, grabbing his arm with her two hands.

            "It's okay," he said, scanning for a quick exit while Ron did the same.

            "There have to be fifty of them," she said.

            "Yeah, I could've guessed that," he snapped.  The cloaked men made a circular wall around them and remained solid.  The lion paced around the three of them, glaring hungrily at them.

            "Ideas, Harry?" Ron said from behind him.

            Harry racked his brain for a spell that could subdue all of them, but Hermione would have to be armed for the spell to be effective, and she was without a wand.

            "Harry!" Ron said as the Order closed in on them.

            Harry whipped his wand across the space in front of him---it made a low _roar _as the curse slapped a third of the Order down to the floor.  Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and ran toward the gap.  Ron quickly followed but the Order was chasing after them.  Their running left a thundering echo as they raced through the halls.  Spells whizzed past them and some blasted pillars and left gaping holes in the walls.  Harry released Hermione and shoved her into Ron, then held himself back.

            "_Vacuolar!_" Harry yelled, jabbing his wand forward at the group of men charging them.  The blast from his wand was so powerful it knocked Harry back several feet.  But it worked.  The Black Order had been struck with the spell and were tossed meters away, landing hard on the marble floor.  Harry whirled around and ran to catch up with Hermione and Ron.

            "Look for Dana!" he commanded them when he caught up with them.  Soon Harry heard the banging footfall of the running Order.  He glanced at them over his shoulder but didn't slow down.  "Hurry!" he yelled at Ron and Hermione, who didn't run as quickly as he could.

            "Where is she?" Hermione asked.

            Harry whipped himself around to fire another spell.  "_Cornibus__ confodere!_" he yelled.  A static crimson beam shot out of his wand and hit the fifteen men charging them.  Instantly they were struck down, but not all of them as whole beings.  Blood splattered on the clean walls and limbs flew on all directions.

            Hermione screamed. 

            "Harry!" she said, once they were running again, "that was dark magic!"

            "Now is not the time to lecture me on morality!" he said as they came into a junction of the corridors.  It was an octagonal room that broke off into eight different directions.  The three of them froze.

            "Which way?" Ron asked.

            Harry turned and saw a handful of men coming at them.

            Harry raised his hand toward them and said, "_Tranquilte_," and a clear barrier blocked the hallway.  "They'll bust through it in no time," he said, watching the Order work together like a hive.  Harry lay his wand flat in his palm and said, "Dana, point me."  He wasn't sure if it would work, but he could at least try it.

            Strangely enough, the wand pointed him down the hallway to his immediate right.  He broke into a run and heard Ron and Hermione follow him.  This hallway was different than the others, mainly because it was dark but also carpeted.  "Dana!" Harry called.

            He slowed to a jog and ducked his head in the doors after his wand.  "Dana!"  Still no response.  He told himself that Audrey wouldn't harm her, that she wouldn't use Dana against him, but something made him wonder…

            "Dana?" he called.  Ron and Hermione flanked his sides and helped in the search.  But they didn't have to.

            "Daddy!" Dana yelled from the other end of the hall.  A huge wave of relief flooded Harry's veins as he ran toward her and sank to his knees to grab her and hug her tight.

            "Thank God," he groaned as he squeezed her.  "Are you all right?" he asked her, setting her down on the ground but not releasing her. 

            She giggled and nodded, then spun around for him.  She wore a pretty silver dress with a ton of frills around the bottom.  Harry also noticed a tiara in her hair.

            "I'm uh pwincess!" she giggled, then hugged him again.  Harry took her in his arms and stood up, glancing down the hall from which he came.  The Order hadn't come after them, and Harry suspected that the Black Order was not permitted to come near Dana and frighten her.

            "Hewrminee!" Dana yelled excitedly when she saw Hermione.

            Hermione smiled but turned to Harry.  "Now what?"

            "We get out of here," Harry said as if it were obvious.  But he noticed that Hermione and Ron were thinking of something else.  "What?" he asked them.

            Ron and Hermione exchanged looks then turned to Harry.  Hermione was the one who spoke.  "It's just that Leucosia has the Black Order still.  While she's alive they can… you know…" she said, nodding at Dana for an explanation.  Harry knew she wanted to say "kill" but she didn't for Dana's sake.

            "What are you suggesting?" he asked, his eyebrows forming a crease. 

            "You know exactly what I'm suggesting," Hermione pushed.  "Now is the only chance you have, Harry, and you know it!  She'll lash out at everyone for this, so you have to stop her."

            Harry snorted in disgust and turned away from her to walk down the hall.  Ron and Hermione followed him.  "Harry you know she's the enemy.  You turned her down, for Christ's sake!  You can't just leave her to formulate another destructive plan.  You have to take action!"

            Harry whirled around but kept his cool because of Dana.  "Those are tall words coming from someone who's never done such a thing.  You have no idea what it's like, Hermione.  Can you even comprehend what it is you're asking me to do?  You think 'playing the hero' is that simple?"

            "No," Hermione responded.  "I'm thinking about everyone else.  Leucosia will form another plan, Harry.  She won't stop because she's lost you."

            "No kidding?" he asked her mockingly.  "Look, right now I'm just trying to get us all out of here before that Order back there," he said, pointing in the direction from which they came, "tears us to shreds.  Let me worry about Leucosia in the future."  He turned and began walking again.

            "You won't have the opportunity in the future," Hermione said quietly.  "You only have it right now because she has to be in her corporeal form."

            Harry paused.

            "It's the only way, Harry," Hermione continued.  "Leucosia will not be mortal once we leave here.  If anything is to be done, it must be now."

            Harry's head sagged a little. 

            "It isn't fair," she went on.  "And I wish I could help you."

            "Come on," Harry said to them without making an about face.  "Let's find a way out of here."

            Hermione rolled her eyes and looked to Ron for some kind of support, but he didn't look as though he was good for it.  She gave up momentarily and followed Harry.

            Finally the four of them came to yet another octagonal junction.  Harry stood in its center and gazed down each corridor wondering where to turn.  But leaving Ithaca was not a choice made by the individual, and he knew that.  Leucosia would have to provide a doorway and Harry couldn't possibly see her doing that. 

            "Now what?" Hermione asked as she stood beside him.  Harry wished she'd keep her mouth shut and stop pestering him.

            "I'm not sure," he admitted. 

            Dana was also impatient.  She started to squirm in Harry's arms, as if wanting down, but Harry wouldn't let go of her, lest she run off and bump into the Order.

            "Is anyone else wondering where Audrey disappeared to?" Ron asked.

            Harry frowned then turned to Ron, who had a very good point.  Where was Audrey?

            "Right here," she said suddenly from Ron's left side. 

            He jumped and scuttled away from her, bumping into Hermione, who in turn bumped into Harry.  Harry was so shocked at seeing Audrey appear that he didn't notice Hermione fumbling behind him.

            "You can run but you can't hide," Audrey sang playfully.  "There's no way to leave this palace but through me.  You should know that, Harry."

            "Mummy!" Dana called.  She struggled a little, but Harry kept a firm grip on her.

            "Are you going to take my daughter from me?" she asked Harry.  "You think I'll allow that without a fight?"

            And right by her side there suddenly appeared ten Black Order members.  Hermione grasped the solid object in Harry's back pocket and lift it so gently he didn't even notice.  She took a few steps back allowing Harry to shield her.

            Ron made his way forward to stand next to Harry, his wand raised. 

            Dana, however, became tense in Harry's arms then buried her face in his shoulders. 

            "Not in front of her," Harry said, covering Dana's head with his free hand, which still grasped his wand.  "And I'm tired of fighting the cloaks.  They're too easy."

            Audrey grinned.  "You're right.  How about your guest?  Let him fight for you."

            Ron's face turned pale again.

            Harry shook his head violently.  "No, this is between me and you," he insisted.  "Leave Ron out of this!"

            "If it was between me and you, then Weasley has no business here," Audrey replied.  "So here's how it'll play out.  Behind me, down that hall, is your way out of Ithaca.  You just have to get there.  Use whatever means you have available, but know that so will they.  This is not a game of logic, Weasley, it's a battle.  The only way out is through me.  Literally.  If you fail, Harry and Hermione remain here forever.  I suspect after a time Harry will see the error of his ways, but Hermione's fate is unknown.  It's time to step into the spotlight, Ron, and see what you can accomplish without Harry's aid.  Any questions?"

            Ron looked uneasily back at Harry, who stared at him with a face of resolve.  Hermione, however, slowly nodded, her hands behind her back.  Ron furrowed his brow at her.  But she didn't waver.  Something in her eyes urged Ron to go forward.

            Ron turned back to Audrey.  "I can use anything?" he asked her.

            "Yes," she replied.  "Are you ready?" she asked him.

            Ron took a deep breath, ignored his stomach and feeling of nausea, and nodded.

            Audrey's face broke out into a grin.  "Very good," she said with relish.  "You may begin."

            Ron didn't move until he had an idea of what to do.  There were ten of them and only one of him.  Harry _might_ be able to take all of them at once, but he sure as hell couldn't.  If only he could borrow Harry's powers, just for a few moments.

            From behind him, Harry shut his eyes and concentrated on just that idea.  He hadn't had too much practice with the idea, but just enough to make it work for a little while.  Harry willed himself to enter Ron's mind, but for this too work completely, Ron had to be willing to host Harry. 

            Ron readied his wand when he heard whispers, not in his ear, but in his mind.  He almost thought it was himself speaking to…himself.  Only that wasn't his voice.  It sounded like Harry's voice, only much softer and calmer.  _Relax_ it told him, even as the Black Order, growing impatient with Ron's inaction, came toward him.  _Do you see the three men on the far left?  _Ron wanted to say yes but just as he was about to tell the voice that, it continued on its own.  _Good.  They will protect Audrey;  don't worry about them right now.  You should be most concerned with the two directly in front of her, the ones who are not moving toward you.  As quickly as you can, run toward them and ignore the three men who are coming at you.  Do it now._

Ron didn't move.

            _You have to trust yourself.  You have the power to protect yourself as long as you obey me, Ron.  Now fight them._

            Three men advanced on Ron, but he somehow managed to skirt past them and as he did, they flew away from him, as if they'd been two negative charges from a magnet.  Ron, astounded with the action, felt much more confident and grinned as he charged the two men directly in front of Audrey.

            _Duck.___

Ron did as Harry commanded, just as one of the men swung a sword at Ron.  Ron dropped to the ground and swung his leg out and clipped both men (astounding himself again) in the back of their legs, knocking them to the floor.

            Then things became rather dicey. 

            The remaining Order standing attacked Ron with all they had.  Panicking, Ron began to retreat, but Harry forced him to stand his ground. 

            Ron, having little control over his actions, found himself throwing hexes he had never learned, curses he'd never heard of, and he kicked as if he held a black belt in Kung Fu.  In a few short moments, all ten men lay on the ground motionless.  Ron grinned at himself and looked daringly at Audrey.

            Audrey frowned and with the flick of her wrist Ron was knocked to the floor, just as Harry fell back into the wall.

            Ron struggled to get to his feet.  Audrey walked to him and towered over him.  "Pity you can't defend yourself alone.  But I did say you could use whatever means were available.  So you won fair and square, thanks to Harry.  Now get the hell out of here."  She reached down and pulled Ron to his feet, then pushed him behind her, toward the exit out of Ithaca.

            Hermione stood strong as Audrey advanced on her.  "You may leave, I have no use for you," she said, and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and flung her into Ron.  Hermione looked down the hall and could see, to her delight, a glowing vertical ray of light; a small fissure waiting to be opened…

            "Well, Harry," Audrey said as she glanced down at him on the ground, Dana still in his arms.  "Not as strong as you think you are, now that you've put your abilities on loan?  I knew you would.  You're always doing what's right."

            Dana struggled to get away and succeeded, as Harry was momentarily weakened by the complex and draining spell he'd just preformed.  Dana stood crying at the violent scene before her.  Audrey ignored her and bent down to tend to Harry instead.

            "They are so weak, Harry.  They're not like me.  They're not like _us_," she whispered, taking his hand.  "They can't ever hope or aspire to be as powerful as we are.  The only way you could save them was to insert yourself into your friend's weak brain.  How can you live with them?  They're beneath you, Harry.  You're a strong warrior, and they are merely dust."

            Harry's raspy breathing made it hard to hear what she was saying.  He was fighting to keep his eyes open, to keep himself concentrated on her, while his strength slowly returned to him.

            "You're nothing without me, Harry, and I'm nothing without you.  You're my other.  Don't you know that?" she said.

            His eyes closed for a while.  Her hand was so small and soft in his own large and rough hands.  Hands that had killed so many already.  Hands that loved to touch her.  She was caressing his face now, as he lay there on the cold floor.  She was gentle with him, gentle when he was not.

            "Do you really want to leave me?" she whispered sweetly.  "Will you go?  Will you go with them and never see me again?"

            Harry opened his eyes.  Dana, it appeared, had made her way across the room and into Ron's arms.  Harry was finding it harder to breathe, even though it had been several moments since Audrey had knocked him out of Ron's mind.

            "You would be so happy with me, you know," Audrey continued, now rubbing his arm with her hand.  "I'll take care of you."

            Harry looked up into her adoring eyes and tried to remain calm so he could breathe again.  She rested one hand on either side of his head, then bent down to kiss him.  The simple touch of her lips electrified him, and once she drew back he could breathe easily.

            "Please stay with me," she whispered to him.  "Stay," she said seductively, kissing him again.

            Audrey pulled herself off the floor then lifted him up just as easily.  "They can go home," she said, grinning.  "Hermione and Ron will be safe, I promise you that."

            She took up his hands and he found that he didn't resist her, nor did he want to.  "But I--"

            "What I'm doing is right," Audrey interrupted him.  "Just stay with me.  Just stay…" she murmured.

            Harry shut his eyes and began shaking his head when a freezing sensation wriggled in his gut.  He opened his eyes to stare at Audrey, but she was so immersed in him that she didn't notice his alarm.

            "Wait," he muttered.

            "I love you," Audrey continued, clearly not hearing him.  "Come and stay with me."

            Harry dropped her hands and looked behind him, then felt his back pocket, which was empty.  He spun back around but it seemed to take him ages to come full circle.  When he did, Audrey was still smiling at him, adoringly.  Then she turned around suddenly…

            Hermione had tapped her shoulder and stood just behind her…

            "Hermione," Harry said weakly, for though Audrey had lifted him off the ground, he still felt winded.  "Hermione, NO!" he bellowed.

            Audrey's eyes widened in alarm, but she was unable to react quickly enough to match Hermione's violent action.  Hermione, her eyes set with determination, whipped her hand up in the air and brought down the dagger, which had allowed Ron and Harry to enter Ithaca, straight into Audrey's beating heart.

            Audrey's mouth opened so wide her jaw cracked, and she released a horrible, painful howl.  Hermione's hand was still on the dagger, though her face revealed her fear and disgust at her own action.

            "NO!" Harry yelled, lunging forward, pushing Hermione back as he collected and cradled Audrey.   Her eyes flashed from brown to gray and back again.  Her breathing was labored and raspy, as Harry's had been moments before.  The color in her face evaporated slowly.  Harry sank to the floor under her weight and stared into her changing eyes.

            Her loud breathing slowed.  Harry felt her body heat ebbing away.

            "It's okay," Harry said to her, looking down at her chest, where the golden handle protruded from her heart---around it a pool of blood.  "You'll be okay," he said numbly, holding her head in his hands as he cradled her.  "It'll be okay," he said, his chest constricting and his eyes watering painfully.  "You'll be fine.  You'll be fine.  You'll be fine..." he said shakily, his lips trembling terribly.  "You'll be fine," he whispered.

            Audrey's eyelids sagged slightly.  She kept eye contact with him and mustered the tiniest of smiles.  "Harry…" she breathed, blood gurgling out of her mouth.

            He simply stared down at her, even when she tried lifting her hand to his face.  "I love you," she exhaled, still trying to smile through her pain. 

            Harry didn't say anything.  He rocked her back and forth and hummed to her.  "You'll be fine," he whispered again.

            Audrey's flickering eyes glazed over and her head lulled to one side.

            Hermione looked around and saw the once paralyzed Black Order, stirring into life.  While their powers were limited, she didn't want to find out what they could do on their own.  She dashed forward, seized the dagger embedded in Audrey's heart, and yanked it out.

            "Harry!" she yelled. 

            He didn't move.

            She grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from Audrey's form.  But he wouldn't get up.  Hermione tried pulling him away, but he was still grasping Audrey and didn't let her go.  She pried his hands off of her and tried again.  His legs drug behind him and Hermione knew she couldn't drag him all the way to the exit.

            "Ron!" she yelled.  Ron, with Dana in his arms, ran from the empty room where the exit was clearly marked and hurried toward Harry and took his other arm.  Harry still grasped his black wand. 

            "Daddy!" Dana cried, but Harry still didn't budge. 

            "Hermione, what the hell did you---"

            "Saved us," Hermione answered then walked to the gleaming line in the air and thrust the blood stained dagger into the top of the fissure and drug it down to the bottom.  A loud _rip_ roared through the air.  She and Ron could plainly see Hogwarts on the other side. 

            "Go!" Hermione told Ron and pushed him with Dana into the fissure.

            "Harry!" Hermione yelled, turning him around to face her.  But his eyes were strangely blank and out of focus, his mouth was opened partially, and he was pale.  "Harry?" she said.

            He didn't answer.  He didn't even look up at her. 

            The ground began to quake and Hermione saw, to her dismay, a few men coming at them, wands raised.  Hermione grabbed Harry around the chest and heaved him backwards through the fissure.  She hit the grassy yet hard ground, Harry right on top of her, still not moving.

            "There he is!" she heard someone bellow, and in a second two dozen witches and wizards surrounded them, wands pointing at Harry.

            "He's innocent!" she heard Ron yell, pushing his way through the crowd, while Dana cried loudly.  Hermione pushed Harry off of her and stood, looking around for the leader of the ambush.

            "Hermione!" she heard Arthur Weasley shriek.  Hermione flipped around and saw him standing behind a few Hit Wizards.  "Hermione, you're alive!"

            "Of course I am," she yelled.  "Leucosia was real, Harry is innocent, and he went after me to save Dana and me!  Now would you please back off!" she yelled.

            But no one did.  In fact several wizards grabbed her and pulled her away from Harry, who lay motionless on the ground, while two Aurors took Harry and bound him.

            "No!" she yelled, fighting to free herself.  "Leave him alone!  He's innocent!  Harry!" she yelled.  "Harry!"  She thrashed and struggled to break free, but the men holding her back were too strong.

            But Harry still wasn't moving.  He didn't resist the two Aurors who bound his limbs together and hoisted him up to drag him away.

            "Arthur!" Hermione yelled, "He needs help.  He's innocent, we can prove it.  You just saw us come out of---"

            "Calm down," he said, coming over to her and resting his hands on her shoulders.  "We have to take him to the Ministry.  He's not going back to Vincula.  But there's so much that needs explaining.  You and Ron will have to come back with us so we can sort all of this out.  And Hermione," he said, with a grin, "it's great to have you back."

            Hermione wanted to muster a smile, but all she could see was Harry's limp form, held up by two Aurors who led him back to the Ministry.          

Thank You to my team of Betas: Elizabeth, Mina, and Apryl, who had a tedious job.  You're all wonderful!

Notes: the line "You have to be a wolf to catch a wolf" is from the movie "Training Day"

The spells that you did not recognize are not real spells, but Latin words I used from my Latin/English Dictionary.

And there are still two chapters left (possible three) this is not, I repeat, not the last chapter!


	13. Debris of a Dangerous Mind

_Note: Now this chapter may seem similar to an episode of_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ from season five titled, "The Weight of the World." I'm a late fan, having seen all the episodes after the series ended, on re-runs. I'm not sure if I had the idea for this chapter before I saw this episode and thought, "Wow, that's like what I'm going to do," or if I saw the episode first and said, "Wow that's a cool idea, I'm going to use that." Either way, the structure is similar. I thank Joss Whedon and the writers of the series one way or the other, because I honestly can't remember._

Chapter Thirteen: Debris of a Dangerous Mind

Word that Harry Potter, the alleged murderer and leader of the Black Order, who had been convicted and sentenced to 150 years in the maximum security prison Vincula Solitarum, had escaped hit the streets and the press not more than half an hour after Harry had been taken to the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione read the article, which was actually very accurate, to Ron from _The__ Evening Prophet._ She had been given the paper upon request, as she and Ron were trapped in an interrogation room-one often used for criminals-and had nothing to do. She and Ron were whisked into this room and were questioned about the past few months. They were both careful and danced around the details involving the IWBI. When the questions of "So how did Harry do it?" came, Hermione said, with an obvious hint of irritation, "It's amazing what will drive an innocent man to bring the guilty to justice."

Ron hadn't answered quite as venomously. "Hey, Harry's got skills. He could've easily broken out of your 'maximum security prison,'" he said repeatedly with in-air quotations.

An hour passed as the meaningless dribble of questions came and went mostly unanswered. Their questioners finally agreed that no more information could be withdrawn from Ron and Hermione, so they left them alone in their room.

Ron assumed that there were listening devices hidden in the corners, seeing as how it was for interrogation, and hoped Hermione would assume the same and keep her questions and opinions to herself. She didn't.

"Did you see the look on his face?" she whispered as she stared at the palms of her hands.

Ron didn't need to question her for clarification. "Yeah," he responded.

Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully and spun her finger in a strand of stray hair. "I wish they'd let us talk to him. I wish they'd tell us what's wrong with him or at least what they did with him."

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "Hermione, he saw you kill his wife. His wife, Hermione. I'm thinking, just off the top of my head, that he might, _might_ be a bit traumatized." He turned away from her, amazed that he was giving _her_ a lesson in emotions.

Hermione slammed her fists onto the table then jumped out of her chair. "You think I wanted to Ron?" she asked dangerously, her face flushing scarlet. "You think I wanted to kill her, to kill his wife? You think that was somewhere in my life plans? Couldn't you see that I didn't have a choice?"

Ron still had his back turned but his shoulders sagged.

"We---were---losing---him!" she whined, tears brimming in her eyes. "He would've stayed with her, Ron! He would've done God only knows what with that woman, and I could see that. Couldn't you see it too? Couldn't you see that look in his eyes?" She made Ron face her. "Either I killed her or Harry would've agreed to her proposal."

Ron regarded her with delicacy and didn't snap back. Hermione continued.

"Besides," she said, "_you_ were sent­­­---y-you wanted to kill her because you knew Harry wouldn't! So don't tell me you don't understand why I had to kill her." She blushed slightly at nearly mentioning the IWBI.

Ron sighed and nodded his head, though he still said nothing.

Hermione dropped back into her chair and laid her head on the cold table. All she could see, all she could think of, was Harry's face. That lost, desperate, frightened face, not of a grown man, but of a young boy.

It seemed like hours had passed by the time Arthur Weasley entered the room Hermione and Ron had been locked in. Hermione bolted out of her chair and demanded answers, but first she scolded the Minister for interrogating them, especially because she and Ron were completely innocent.

"I know, Hermione," Arthur said. He made them sit down as he took a seat opposite them. He held his hands together like a praying monk as he listened to Hermione continue her rant, but he didn't silence her. By the time Hermione had said all she needed to say, Arthur had planned on what to tell them.

First he moistened his lips and told Hermione to sit down, again. She did as told but still appeared cross.

By reading Arthur's body language, Hermione knew whatever he had to say was not excellent news. The moment Hermione's breathing returned to normal, Arthur began his explanation.

"We brought in three Healers," he said, tracing his eyes over Ron and Hermione. "Supposedly they're the best in their specialties. For the past hour they've been checking and re-checking Harry. The thing is they can't find anything _physically_ wrong with him. His pulse is normal, his temperature is normal, all of his brain waves read normal, but something isn't right. While you two have been in here, being questioned, Harry's been stationary and hasn't responded to any kind of stimulus. We brought Dana into the room, and he still didn't react. The Healers don't really know what to make of it, and frankly, neither do I. Hermione," he said, focusing most of his attention on her now, "you said that Harry witnessed Audrey's murder?"

Hermione had answered the question no less than a dozen times, but she couldn't bring herself to reply snidely. "Yes," she answered.

Arthur nodded to himself and sighed as he sat back in his chair and picked at his chin. "I think this may pass, but the Healers are very concerned."

Ron leaned forward over the table. "So Harry's in some kind of coma?" he asked.

Hermione turned her head to stare at Arthur for confirmation.

Arthur frowned. "It seems that way, yes," he affirmed.

"But he'll have to come out of it eventually, won't he? You think this will pass, right? So Harry will come out of it. He has to," Hermione said quickly.

Arthur inhaled a large breath. "Well, it's really more complicated than just waiting for him to come to. Harry isn't allowing any means of life support, like intravenous fluid or any magical means for us to get him what he needs to live."

Hermione's mouth dropped slightly and she reached for Ron's hand. "He's not allowing life support," she mumbled to herself.

"I'm afraid not," Arthur said. "He's shut down. It's very strange. He's alive and functioning on a normal level, but he's not here with us."

Ron gave Hermione's hand a supportive squeeze. "So what happens next?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lip and stared at Arthur through blurry eyes. She needed that answer to cling to. What happens next?  
Arthur wiggled in his chair and twisted the ring on his finger. "The Healers think it best if he's sent home. Hopefully the familiar surroundings will bring him out of this. I've also contacted, out of the Healers' requests, Doctor Marc Simon and Clarice Starling. It appears as if this coma is self-induced, meaning most of it is psychological, and for that we'll need experts. The Healers would like for you two to be there. Dana is too young and the explanation of what has happened to her father and the whereabouts of her mother are too much to go into at this time. Vanessa and her mother have taken her for the time being."

Hermione watched Arthur's lips move, and she vaguely heard what sounds were coming from them. Something about Clarice Starling… she heard Vanessa's name mentioned, and Dana was off somewhere… the death of her mother and condition of her father would be too overwhelming… And while Hermione knew this information was important, Hermione couldn't listen. She kept replaying the moment when she'd killed Audrey. The raising of the knife, the stabbing, that feeling of the knife sliding into her heart like Audrey was butter… And she heard Harry's pained cry, a howl, for her to stop. She saw his face. That distraught and helpless face and desperate eyes as he held Audrey and watched her last breath leave her…

Hermione had Ron lead her to Harry's flat by hand. "He's like this because of me," she mumbled as Ron took her to the door to Harry's home.

Ron said nothing, and it was probably best that he didn't. He reached for the handle and opened the door, then took Hermione and led her through.

It seemed as if Harry had never left; as if there had never been an Audrey, or Leucosia, or a trial, or a verdict… Hermione felt as if she'd simply stepped into his home and expected Harry to smile at her from the sofa.

The chairs and tables were exactly where they had been months ago. The dark floor sparkled, the kitchen counters shimmered, and the spice bottles and jars all gleamed from their nooks. The only thing that was noticeably different was the five people huddled in a corner of the flat, buzzing at each other like wasps. Hermione broke away from Ron and walked toward them, as if hypnotized.

There were three Healers among the hive. They wore their lime green robes and were busy discussing Harry's medical history and current situation with Doctor Marc Simon and Clarice Starling, the elderly woman who'd taught Harry the basics of telepathy. She, above the other four, seemed most concerned. From a distance Hermione could see Clarice's watery eyes and shaking hands.

Hermione walked closer to them, but one of the Healers noticed her. Instead of stopping the conversation, the Healer took Hermione and Ron down the hall to the double doors of Harry's bedroom.

"He's in here," she said softly, nudging the doors open just wide enough for Ron and Hermione to side-step into.

The room was soaked in shadow. The large windows were cloaked with black curtains, and rags had been stuffed under the balcony doors, to ensure that even the most innocent band of light could not invade this space.

Hermione and Ron treaded softly toward a lump on the bed; blankets were draped on Harry and, to add to the strangeness, a peculiar monitor with dashing lines of electric red was nailed to the headboard. Hermione's eyes roved over the monitor, making little sense of it, and turned her weary and blurry eyes to Harry's pale face.

Why the Healers had deemed Harry physically healthy, Hermione didn't know. His face was ashen, his eyes were opened halfway and glazed over and seemed to stare into space but not at any specific target, and his mouth was slack; Hermione could just hear him breathing.

Hermione kneeled on the ground and ran her fingers through his shiny black hair. "Harry?" she whispered. Nothing happened; she didn't expect anything to happen.

The sight of him so weak and helpless was nauseating. Hermione had to clutch her stomach with one hand and ignore her constricting chest. "Harry," she said again, her voice wobbling. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

It was terribly unfair. Mere hours ago Harry held Hermione in his arms, joyous at the sight of her, beaming from ear to ear, holding her tighter than he ever had. The sight of him had been Hermione's kiss of life, for, over the past months, she was certain Harry and Ron thought her dead. They would've mourned her, but moved on. The very idea had cost Hermione thousands of tears.

And here he lay. Once so powerful and full of life, Harry lay sickly and in a state of shock nearly equal to that following Voldemort's defeat.

"It's like déjà vu," Ron said in a cracking voice, apparently thinking the same as Hermione. When they found Harry seven years ago, he lay lifeless, his eyes glazed over in the same lifeless way they were now. Meters from Harry lay the quickly decaying body of Voldemort, which was slowly turning to ash. They had screamed at Harry to wake up, they shook him and slapped him, but nothing would bring him out of it. Hermione had been too scared to put her ear to his chest to listen for that beating heart.

Everyone thought he was dead, even Dumbledore, who stood quietly by and wept soundlessly. Harry wasn't breathing; he wasn't blinking. He wasn't living.

Yet mysteriously, after thirty seconds or less, Harry took a large breath, blinked his eyes, and coughed. He'd turned over on his stomach and coughed into the dust of the floor, possibly unaware of the tension he'd relieved in the people surrounding him.

No one knew how he did it and he never enlightened them. Once Harry was taken to St. Mungo's for a check, they were laughing with relief---except Harry. Dumbledore, relieved that his pupil had survived, deemed Harry the first human phoenix. Ron and his brothers spent that night toasting Harry, as did most of the wizarding world. Fireworks were sent into the sky, shooting stars streaked across the northern hemisphere into the southern, feasts were held in his name, the newspapers and magazines all across the world plastered Harry's face to their covers and front pages…

And Harry had sat in his hospital room, staring into space, not speaking to anyone, not wanting to speak to anyone, just…sitting. Just staring. Hermione, setting the festivities aside, had gone into the room to be with him, to talk to him should he want to say anything. He'd acknowledged her presence with a subtle grunt, but he said nothing to her. He left Hermione to conclude that he'd seen something, been somewhere, like the In Between Place C.S. Lewis had written of, or maybe someplace more spectacular, or just mysterious and strange, in the seconds he'd been gone.

Harry never confirmed this. He never discussed where he went for those seconds, not with anyone, or at least that was what Hermione believed.

Her musings were cut short by the penetration of two new voices. She broke her eyes away from Harry and noted that Doctor Simon and Clarice Starling had entered the room. Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve and stood to face them.

Doctor Simon seemed unsettled, and Hermione was glad. Doctor Simon, like countless others, presumed that Harry was delusional and had created Leucosia as some kind of defensive mechanism. Hermione couldn't muster much sympathy for the man.

Clarice, on the other hand, was clearly concerned. She dabbed at her teary eyes with a handkerchief as she sniffed and wept.

"What can we do?" Hermione asked, surprised by her steadiness.

Doctor Simon looked down at Harry and said, "He has to come out of this on his own."

"Yes," Hermione replied, "we were told that already. But there's got to be a way we can pull him out of it, right? There always is. So what are our options?"

Clarice cleared her throat to answer. "We can't bring him out of it, dear," she said gently.

Hermione wouldn't accept that answer. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because it's self-induced," Marc replied.

Hermione turned and scowled at him. "That's for the obvious," she said. "But that isn't good enough. There has to be a way, there just has to be. There is always some secret way, hidden in a spell book or something, that can get him out of this. There must be something we can do--"

"No, it's self-induced so it must be ended only by Harry. He has to pull himself out of this. We can't do anything for him," Marc said.

Hermione glowered at him. "Okay," she said. "So he'll bring himself out of it. We'll just wait here for him to wake up, right?" She looked to Clarice for this answer.

Clarice shook her head, as a few more tears slid down her wrinkled face. "No dear. He's not going to wake up."

Hermione stared at her accusingly. "What?" she snapped.

"Harry isn't going to wake up," Clarice said again. She dabbed her eyes again with her handkerchief then blew her nose.

"He has to," Hermione said, unknowingly balling her hands into fists.

"No he doesn't," Marc answered.

"Then what are you saying?" Hermione asked, daring them to tell her the truth.

Marc took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "What were saying," he began delicately, "what were saying is that within a few days, maybe more, maybe less, Harry's body will completely shut down. He cannot survive without water or food, and there is no way we can get him to take it, not like this. What I'm saying is that in a matter of days Harry will die."

Hermione watched Marc for a while, allowing the meaningless words to wash over her. How could a person die from sleeping a few days? Logic, however, slapped Hermione in the face. Marc was right. A human being can't go days without water. So was this how it would end? Harry was going to slowly deteriorate with each passing hour until his body could no longer sustain life. Would Harry's despair, his bitter sadness, his helplessness and loss lead him to death?

Hermione couldn't feel her knees. She knew Marc, Ron, and Clarice were staring at her, but she couldn't see their faces. Her vision, already blurred, gave out on her. _In a matter of days, Harry will die. Harry will die. He'll die. Harry won't breath or talk or laugh or cry or eat or sleep or blink or yawn or play or love or smile or frown or yell or live…Harry will die. But he can't. This morning he was fine. He held me; he let me kiss him. He told me he was so afraid he'd lost me; he wore that look… that look that I've worn for him. If he knew everything would mend, that time heals all, if he knew he'd orphan his daughter…if he could possibly know how much we love him, how much he'd be missed, he couldn't leave. Dana needs him…if he only knew…_

"Harry can't die," Hermione said feebly, only aware that she'd said it minutes later. "If he knew how much he's needed, he wouldn't do this. Harry's proactive; he's a fighter. He wouldn't give up unless he knew there was nothing worth fighting for."

"He knows he's needed," Clarice said from Harry's bedside. "He knows everything."

Hermione pivoted around to face her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Clarice smiled. "He knows he'll be missed," she said gently, stroking Harry's face with the back of her bony hand. "He knows that you and Ron cherish him. He knows that when he leaves here you and Ron will mourn him. And he doesn't want to fight anymore. I think," she whispered, "I think he's tired. He wants to let go."

Hermione shook her head violently. "We can't '_let him go_,'" she replied.

"Harry isn't afraid of death," Clarice said. "He's willing to take hold of it. He's ready to leave."

Hermione scoffed. "Harry can't leave, I don't care if he's ready to or not. He's going to abandon and orphan his daughter because he doesn't want to live anymore? Well, I'm sorry, but that's not good enough." Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulder and shook him, trying to wake him up but knowing it was no good. "Did you hear that, Harry?" she asked him. "What about Dana? What about your little girl? Are you going to leave her behind? Are you? She won't have a father, Harry. She's lost her mother, and now she's losing you! Wake up!" she screamed, shaking him more violently than before but achieving the same result. "WAKE UP!"

Ron yanked Hermione away from Harry, but she wouldn't stop screaming even as Ron took her out of the room. "WAKE UP!" she hollered, her face red and shimmering with tears. "DON'T LEAVE US!" she cried, "HARRY!"

But Harry didn't flicker an eyelash.

A steaming cup of tea balanced on Hermione's knee. She watched the bag sink to the bottom of the small cup; the brown waves flowed out of the bag and diluted into the water as she toyed with the string. Ron had been stirring his tea for the past five minutes. The clinking of the spoon on the cup echoed off the walls. Every now and then Hermione would clear her throat and say, "There must be a way," then she'd toy with her tea bag again. Ron would stop the clinking of his spoon to sigh, then would stir again.

"I don't think there is. I certainly can't think of anything," Marc said.

Clarice took a sip of her tea. "Nor I," she added.

Hermione put her tea on the coffee table. "But there's always a way," she said. "There's always something. Someone somewhere has to have a cure for this. Harry can't possibly be the first wizard to self-induce a coma."

Now Ron set his tea down. "We've checked all the books and records, but all of the past wizards died of thirst or hunger," Ron said.

"Well there's probably a case that isn't documented! And anyway, Harry's stronger than those wizards were," she said.

No one said anything to that. The fact that Harry was more powerful than the other wizards only added to the problem.

It had been ten long hours since Harry was brought home. In that time Harry's pulse slowed by one beat per minute and his temperature dropped half a centigrade. All three Healers had agreed that while the changes were slight, they were abnormal and dangerous.

After everyone finished their tea, Marc asked for everyone to get some much needed rest. Hermione wasn't sure she'd be able to do that, knowing that Harry was down the hall, slowly dying. But trying to stay awake as everyone else slipped off into slumber, she found to be a chore. She decided to rest her eyes a bit… then she slid in the sofa so her head was nestled in the crook of the arm and the top cushion. She tried opening her eyes again, but was drawn into sleep…

She was walking, well, kind of gliding really, down the hall of Harry's flat. Ron was sleeping in his chair, Marc was reading a book, and Clarice was feeling around blindly. Hermione walked over to her and took her hand.

Clarice looked up into her face and smiled. "I see you now," she said then escorted Hermione to Harry's bedroom, where he lay in his bed. There was another man standing in the corner of Harry's bedroom. His head was bent so that his chin was on his chest. Clarice took Hermione to him. The man snapped his head up.

It was Harry.

"You broke me," he growled at her.

Hermione looked at the bed. Harry was in bed, in a coma… yet he was also standing here, talking to her.

"Playing the hero," he continued.

"I had to," Hermione said firmly.

"So do I," Harry said and he pulled a knife from his back trouser pocket, the knife Hermione had used to kill Audrey, and stabbed it in his heart.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hermione yelled aloud, waking herself and the rest of her sleeping companions.

"What?" Ron asked, falling off the sofa in surprise.

Hermione gasped and shivered, clutching her chest and feeling her wet blouse. She'd been sweating. "It was only a nightmare," she sighed, letting herself fall back to the sofa. She could see the sun rising out one of the many windows. "Only a nightmare," she repeated to herself.

But Clarice hobbled over to sit beside her, took her hand, then squinted into Hermione's eyes. Hermione stared back into the old woman's cloudy blue eyes with as much interest as Clarice stared into hers.

"You spoke to him," Clarice said.

Hermione sat up and tensed her muscles. "How did you--"

"I saw him too."

"How? How is that possible?"

"Maybe he's reaching out to you," Clarice said. "It sounds as if he's searching for a reason to survive, and you have to give him one."

Hermione bit her lip and tried to remain calm. She didn't want to work herself into a frenzy over nothing. "Okay, I have plenty of reasons to give him, but how exactly do I go about telling him? He's in a coma and he can't hear a word I'm saying to him."

Then a new voice from the doorway of Harry's flat sounded the answer. "You could try using Starling as a telepathic link."

Hermione turned to see, once again, Ashika Narayan making her usual dramatic entrance with her know-it-all attitude and her braggadocios grin. She strode inside and nodded to Marc Simon, who was flabbergasted by her sudden appearance, shook Clarice's hand vigorously, then turned to Hermione and gave her a proud grin. "It's nice to see you alive and in one piece, Miss Granger. And I would also like to congratulate you for your courage to bring an end to Leucosia and her spells." Ashika cast a brief but scathing glance at Ron, then turned her attention to Hermione and Clarice.

Hermione was too curious about Narayan's idea to care about the comment regarding her courage. "You were saying?" she asked. "Something about using Clarice as a telepathic link?"

Ashika helped herself to some tea then sat down. "That's right."

"I don't understand," Hermione said.

"Well it's complicated, but I can make it real simple. Harry and Clarice share a link, a common trait."

"Telepathy," Hermione said.

"Right," Ashika said, then made a face when she drank her tea. She set it down on the table. "The reason you saw him in your dream is because Clarice is in close proximity to Harry, and it's been more than a few weeks since Harry had his regular dose of the spectareminure potion. His cerebrum is hyperactive, or so my Healer tells me. You see, Harry is in a coma, but only in the way that he's not communicating to us. His higher brain activities are functioning well _above_ normal. Whatever Harry's thinking, he's thinking a lot about it and sending out signals. In doing so, his brain is ultra-sensitive to any kind of extrasensory stimuli. In your desperation to communicate to him, you subconsciously used Starling as a link, and it worked. More importantly Harry heard you and reached out."

Hermione tried to process everything Ashika was telling her. "But it was a nightmare. Harry stabbed himself."

"Well of course," Ashika said slowly. "You can't possibly expect sudden forgiveness."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"To put it in layman's terms, Harry was trying to get a rise out of you, trying to keep you away from him. Its conflicting information, but no one said anything about this making sense. In making you see his pain, Harry has made you feel guilty. He wants you to see where he's coming from. He wants you to stay away from him and let him die, but at the same time he's shown you a way, accidentally, to get to him."

Hermione scrunched her face. "Harry reached out to me but wants to make me feel guilty for killing Audrey?"

"Exactly. Big mistake on his part. Now you can get in."

There was a period of dead silence. Then Marc spoke for the first time.

"So how can you re-establish the link? If Hermione reached out on the subconscious level how can she communicate with Harry consciously?"

Ashika scoffed at him. "You have such a pathetic little mind," she said to him. "I really can't see the reason for your presence here, Simon. Are you here waiting to apologize to Harry on bended knee when he comes out of his wallowing self-pity?"

Marc was affronted. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" he asked.

Ashika laughed. "More important and smarter than you are, and that's all you need to know. Now," she said, turning her attention back to Hermione and Clarice, ignoring Marc's strange throat noises and Ron's soft laughter, "in order to achieve a good link, Hermione must be in a controlled REM sleep. The only way to come out of it is to have Harry wake with you. The risk, therefore, is incredibly high."

Now Ron spoke in a high pitched and panicked voice. "So if Harry decides that he's going to ignore Hermione, she could die with him?"

"Right," Ashika said with little emotional flare.

Ron stood up and shook his head and his hands at the both of them. "No way, Hermione. You're not doing this."

Hermione stood, shakily at first, to meet Ron's eye. "I believe it's my choice Ron, not yours," she said.

"So I don't get a say in this? I'm not losing you again because Harry's feeling sorry for himself!"

"Don't try to make it that simple," Hermione replied. "He saw me murder Audrey, remember? He's traumatized, in your words. He _loved_ her. How well would you react if you saw me murdered right before your eyes? Would you simply skip around and go about your day? Well, I hope not!"

"I wouldn't put myself into a coma. This is insane! Doesn't anyone think this is insane besides me? Harry did this to himself, why should you bail him out of this?" he asked her.

Ashika spoke before Hermione could. "Harry feels as if he's lost everyone. Why don't you tally it up yourself, Ron? Everyone Harry has loved everyone who's loved Harry, has died. Everyone. He even thought, for a time, that Hermione was gone. Now he's lost his wife."

"The first person he ever told he loved," Clarice mumbled.

"Exactly," Ashika went on. "This isn't about logic. It's too much for him to deal with. Try putting yourself in his place."

Ron crossed his arms. "I still don't want Hermione doing this alone."

"There's no other way," Hermione said.

"But if he tells you to sod off, you die with him!" Ron yelled. "I can't stand here and let that happen! I can't lose you twice, and I certainly can't lose both of you."

Ashika tried making Ron sit down, but he wouldn't have it.

"Ron," she said, "Harry won't let an innocent person die because of him, that's why it will work."

"You just said Harry's furious with Hermione for killing Audrey. He doesn't think she's innocent. To him, Hermione's the reason he's in a coma! Am I the _only_ one who realizes that? If anyone goes it should be me. I've been friends with him just as long as Hermione has. No, longer! I was friends with him before she got herself locked in a lavatory with a troll!"

Ashika rested her hands on her hips and sighed. "We don't have time for this," she breathed. "Ron, yes you're right. Harry is upset with her. But he searched her out in Ithaca. Remember how torn he was when he thought Hermione was dead? He almost put himself into a coma then. He locked himself away and wouldn't see anyone, remember?" She turned to Hermione. "He's upset with you now, but one day he won't be. He was devastated, as was Ron, when he thought you were dead. One day he'll realize you had no choice-that you had to kill her. I promise you that. But it's up to you to make sure he lives to see that day."

Hermione locked eyes with Ashika and saw a desperation that matched her own. Ashika wanted Harry to live as much as she did. Everyone wanted him to live.

She could save Harry, but at a great risk to herself. What if he did decide to die? She would die as well, so young… But would he allow for it? Would he let her go for his sake? She'd known Harry thirteen years now and very much doubted Harry would let her die, no matter what she'd done to him.

Hermione twirled a lock of her hair as her mind skipped over all the reasons against it, but focused on all the right reasons to save him.

"Let me go," Ron said again. "Hermione's been through enough."

"No," Ashika said, quite seriously. "You can't."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "I'm just as capable."

"Many reasons," Ashika said. "First of all, Harry didn't reach to you. Secondly Hermione is, no offense, much smarter than you are and frankly, she'll be able to interpret symbolism faster than you. Harry's mind will present itself like a dream and will need quick interpretations."

Ron grinned. "Hermione quit divination where we discussed dreams. I'm more experienced than she is at this, so I should go, not her."

Ashika rolled her eyes and checked her wrist watch. "Ron, what does it mean when people have dreams about their teeth falling out?" she asked.

Ron furrowed his brow. "Huh?" he asked.

"I rest my case," Ashika said. She took Hermione by the elbow with one hand and Clarice by the other and escorted them into Harry's bedroom. In all this time, Clarice hadn't asked one question. She seemed to understand everything and was perfectly willing to go through with it.

Ashika shut the doors to Harry's room, closing it on Ron and Marc's curious faces. Once Hermione was sure that Ron couldn't hear her, she said, "I have no idea what it means when someone has a dream about their teeth falling out."

Ashika seemed unconcerned as she prepped the bed for the process. "No matter. You won't see much symbolism anyway. I can't have Ron do this, and we don't have the time for long explanations. You saw Harry in your dream, not Ron. If it had been reversed, he would've gone, but he didn't. Besides, you're quite a bit smarter than he is, and you have a better grasp on emotions. You'll need that."

Hermione nodded and wiped her sweaty hands on her shirt. "Okay," she said. Hermione watched Ashika arrange the bed without a word, but she was certainly feeling—

"Nervous?" Clarice finished with a smile.

Hermione tried swallowing but didn't have sufficient saliva. "A little," she admitted. "No, a lot."

Ashika turned Harry on his back and put his hands at his sides. Then she watched the strange monitor above his head, which Hermione suspected showed his brainwaves and heart beat. But she had to admit she didn't know a great deal about Healing, though she wouldn't admit that to anyone else.

Ashika then readied the other side of the bed by smoothing the sheets. She beckoned Hermione with a finger.

Hermione, with labored breathing, lay beside Harry and, upon instruction, took his cold hand. Clarice sat in a chair that Ashika provided and sat at the foot of the bed. She took several deep breaths and shut her eyes.

"Wait," Hermione said, sounding much calmer than she actually was, or wasn't. "Wait, I have no idea what I should be doing. Sorry Ashika, but your explanation was horrible. I know I'm supposed to convince Harry to come out of this, but I don't know how to do that. What should I expect? What will I see?"

This time Clarice spoke. "You'll have to find him first. I've seen in many minds myself, and when you penetrate into them, the minds organize. It's hard to explain. Most people's minds look like houses, castles, or just rooms leading to other rooms. Those doors will lead to sections of Harry's mind. But the way we're handling this, he can't see into your mind, only you can see in his. But other than that, we're not sure what you should expect. You just have to find him. He'll be behind a door. I can't tell you more than that."

Hermione lay her head down on the pillow. "So I'm going in blindly?"

"Basically," Ashika said. She withdrew a vial of green potion from her robes and handed it to Hermione. "This will put you into REM sleep but also provides you with the nutrients you'll need to survive this. I'm not sure how long it will take you. Time will be different there. What may seem like seconds to you could be minutes or hours here. Just don't panic." she said.

Right, don't panic. Yeah right.

Hermione took the vial but didn't drink it yet. Ashika took two round, purple amulets from her pockets. She stuck one on Hermione's forehead and the other on Harry's. "This will tell us when you link to him," she explained.

Hermione uncorked the vial, tried ignoring her nervous squirm in her stomach, and looked to Clarice, who nodded. Hermione took several deep breaths, her heart thudding against her ribcage, then drank the potion in one gulp.

Clarice and Ashika melted away. Then there was darkness. Yet Hermione knew it, and could see it. Black.

In the back of her mind, Hermione heard a faint whispering, a chanting, like someone was saying an incantation. It had a rhythm and kept repeating until Hermione saw a light. The whispering faded as the light brightened. Then Hermione was sure that she was standing. _Standing._ She was standing somewhere… a hallway… a strange hallway.

The wide hallway had black marble floors so shiny she could see her reflection. She had her own body! Hermione looked around her. The hallway walls were made of rich wooden panels, and the doors were not square, but arched and made of stone. The ceiling of Harry's mind was cloudy, like the ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

But what worried Hermione the most was the number of doors. They seemed to go on forever, both ahead of her and behind her. There had to be thousands and Harry was only behind one of them. But which one? It would take her years to search all of them, years Harry didn't have.

"Deep breaths," she told herself. She walked to a door on her right and gave it a go. She pushed it, twisted the knob, but it didn't budge. She frowned and tried another, but it too was locked. Hermione tried five more doors and nearly sobbed when none of them opened. She was just about to burst into tears when the door directly in front of her morphed from stone into a soft red curtain.

Hermione held her breath, reached out her hand and touched it, then pulled it aside and walked into the room that lay beyond it.

Inside was a round room, like an office. The walls looked to be made of crimson velvet. In the center of the room was a grand oak desk with a shiny top. Hermione walked around and noticed strange portraits on the wall, portraits of people Hermione had never seen. These people examined her skeptically and seemed just as interested in her as she was in them. But studying these photos led her nowhere, in fact, this room led her nowhere. Harry wasn't here and she had to find him before his time came to an end.

"Why if it isn't Florence Nightingale," said a warm voice from behind her.

Hermione whipped around to stare at a handsome man sitting on the desktop. He must have just come in, for he wasn't here when Hermione entered. He had thick, shiny black hair, a powerful square jaw, a chiseled face, and a proud beaming grin. Hermione had to blink in quick succession before looking at him again.

"S-Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius's grin, if possible, widened and he nodded at her. "I've been expecting you," he said kindly.

Hermione couldn't move. She stared at him skeptically but he laughed at her.

"Yes, it really is me, Hermione," he said.

Hermione found her voice. "But you're--"

"Dead?" he finished, his eyebrows raised.

"Well… yeah," Hermione said.

"You think being dead stops me from doing important things?" he asked her with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Doesn't it?" she asked. She wasn't sure she should believe this image or to run from it. But Sirius was dead, had been for nine years. Yet here he stood, talking to her like he'd never left.

Sirius barked a laugh and walked to her. "Hermione," he said gently, "if you're going to succeed, you're going to have to believe in the extraordinary. I seem to remember Harry telling you and many others that he'd spoken to me."

Hermione reached out her hand and pushed his shoulder. It was warm and solid. He grinned and took her hands.

"Sirius," she said and she felt her tears brimming in her eyes. She couldn't restrain herself any longer and before she knew it, she was hugging him and didn't want to let go. "Sirius, Harry needs help," she cried. "Audrey tricked him into loving her, and I--"

"I know," Sirius said and he pulled here away from him, but he still clutched her shoulders. "We know what's happened."

"We?" she asked.

Sirius nodded to all the portraits in the room.

"The dead?" she asked.

Sirius nodded again and regarded her with a friendly smile. "Harry asked me who had stabbed him and why. I couldn't tell him the truth, but I gave him a few hints. The thing is, Harry already suspected Audrey. Well," he corrected himself, "he knew there was more to her than met his eye. He knew she was special in a way he couldn't understand. There was something about her, something mysterious. You couldn't sense it. No one sensed it but Harry. She did that purposefully. But he knew something was different about her and he wasn't surprised to find out that she was his enemy in a fitting disguise."

Hermione stared at him. "Then what did you tell him?"

He grinned again, but pensively. "I told him things that would help him cope. I'm not allowed to alter people's lives, only to keep them on the right track. I gave Harry three pieces of advice that he will need in the coming weeks and months, even years, after he learned the truth of Audrey. He thinks he's solved the riddles, and in some ways he has. They affirmed the truth, but one riddle, mine, still isn't adding up. I know how confusing this is for you," he said when he noticed her frown, "but those words are for Harry alone. I can't give them to you."

Hermione sighed a bit but not from relief. "I thought Harry was crazy when he said he'd seen you. He was on a lot of medication."

Sirius laughed again. "Oh Hermione," he said. "Harry has never been more sincere in his life than he was at that very moment. He meant every word he said to everyone. Sure he sounded a little, should I say, befuddled? But Harry meant everything. He did talk to me. What he said to you and to everyone else was the truth. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" he asked with warmth in his eyes that he'd never had in life.

Hermione recalled what Harry had said to her as he lay in that hospital bed. But she'd thought maybe he was only being polite. What was he supposed to tell her after she'd told him that?

"Only the truth," Sirius said again. "I need for you to remember that."

Hermione raised her moist eyes to meet his. "Harry said he loved me."

"He does," Sirius said warmly. "He really does."

Hermione swallowed as he lips trembled and formed a sad smile. "He loved Audrey more than he ever loved me," she said. She didn't know why she said it, but she felt compelled to tell someone her girlish and childish thought.

Sirius tilt his head to one side and sighed. "And why do you think that?"

Hermione heard herself laughing. "He married her. Audrey was right about so many things. She saw Harry as he was. She saw his bad and his good. I can't see that. She said I didn't want to, and she was right. She said Harry was a murderer."

Sirius took a deep breath and rested his hands on his hips. "Audrey had a few good points; that's for sure. But _you_ see Harry's good, and Audrey _only_ saw his bad. We all have a bad streak. I tried to kill Snape when I was sixteen. I tried taking revenge on Peter Pettigrew, but Harry stopped me. Do my actions make me evil to the core? Did you or Harry and Ron focus on my dangerous flaws?" He went on before Hermione could answer. "Harry's had it rough, and while it doesn't excuse some of the things he's done, it explains them. You'll find how rough Harry's had it in a few moments. He's never had a break, and he probably never will. He has to work hard for everything, and it's tiring. He's had to persevere and hope that tomorrow would be better than today, and it rarely is. I don't have time for speeches, but Harry has had an exceptionally hard life, and the appearance of Audrey suddenly made it easier. It doesn't seem like it would, but to Harry it did."

"He killed four people just the other day," Hermione mumbled, hoping Sirius could explain that away.

"Yes I know. He killed them to protect himself, as they attacked him. Audrey didn't mention that. But we don't have a lot of time, Hermione. You need to know that Harry has an enormous capability to care for people and just as much capability to pretend that he doesn't. Harry loves you and Ron and always will. You were there for him when no one else was, me included. _You_, Hermione, never doubted him, not once. Even when things got rough and he hurt you, you still believed in him. You're the only person who's stood up to him and asked him to think things through, but you've never thrown it back in his face when he didn't listen to you, and it turned out horribly wrong.

"Your love for him isn't self-serving, and he knows that. Promise me that whatever you see, you'll remember it."

Hermione crossed her arms and nodded. "Okay. But how do I find him? What do I have to do, and what _will_ I see?"

Sirius backed away from her, preparing to depart. "Memories Harry is reliving. He's drowning himself in them. He's behind one of those doors. In order to break him out of this trance, you must convince him to live."

"But," she said as Sirius began to dematerialize, "the doors are locked!"

Sirius smiled as he faded away. "This is Harry's mind, Hermione. Do whatever he would do." And then he vanished without a goodbye. Hermione stood alone in the office with the pictures of the dead. She looked around at them as if they could offer some kind of clue. How was she supposed to get into those locked doors?

She left the office and found herself in the hallway. What would Harry do if he came to a door he couldn't open but needed to get into? _That's easy_ she thought. He'd break through it. Hermione took a deep breath and backed across the hall to one door, then ran all the way across to another, throwing herself at it to break it open.

Miraculously it did open.

Now Hermione stood not in the hallway, but in a house she'd never seen. Immediately to her right was a flight of stairs. In front of her was a short walkway which seemed to lead to the kitchen. This wasn't Audrey's house and it wasn't Harry's flat. Perhaps it belonged to one of Harry's girlfriends?

She heard laughter and a ripping sound. She walked forward and saw a family room to her left, complete with a family of three. The Dursleys.

Petunia sat on the ground and watched her plump son unwrap a toy fire-truck. He had to be no more than five. Vernon was beside himself with glee, taking pictures of the fat blond boy opening another gift.

Hermione stared around. If this was Harry's memory, then he should be here somewhere… There were photos of Dudley and his parents everywhere, but not a sign of little Harry. It was Christmas morning, where was the other boy?

She searched the rest of the family room then the kitchen. No Harry. She ran up the stairs and searched the upstairs rooms. No Harry. Stumped, Hermione came back down the stairs and nearly left the house when she noticed tiny fingers pushing open the cupboard door under the stairs…

Hermione frowned but waited. Sure enough those fingers were followed by a hand, an arm, shoulders and the body of a tiny boy, short even for a five-year old. He had messy black hair, wore clothes that were much too big for him, and had round glasses that slipped down his nose.

Little Harry didn't go into the family room. He stood by the cupboard door and watched the Dursleys have their Christmas morning. Dudley had just unwrapped a toy ambulance, which made real siren noises, and the light rack lit up. Hermione walked over to Harry and knelt down to get a better look at him. He didn't notice her, and Hermione didn't expect him to. It was his memory, and Hermione certainly wasn't part of it. Harry's eyes were red on the edges and appeared tired; maybe he'd just woken up. There was his lightning bolt scar under his bushy hair, which Hermione hadn't seen since it healed the night Harry came back to life when he was seventeen.

Suddenly, little Harry made an about face and went back into the cupboard, closing the door quietly behind him. Hermione tried opening the cupboard but found that her hand went right through the solid object. She slipped inside and found Harry lying face down on a small cot. In the corners of this cramped space were spider webs. Harry's clothes, the few that he had, lay in a neat pile at the foot of the cot, and the rest of his meager belongings sat beside them.

Hermione wanted to touch Harry, but her hand went through him too. She leaned closer to him. She could hear small whining noises; he was crying, but so quietly that he wouldn't disturb the family outside of his dark space.

"Harry," she said, knowing he couldn't hear her. Then he dissolved, along with the room.

She was in the hallway again, faced with an infinite number of doors. She walked to another door as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. In all the years she'd known him, Harry had never said he'd lived in a cupboard. She wondered how long he'd lived in it, only she didn't have the time to wonder.

She decided to try the door directly across from the one she'd just visited. She ran at it and rammed it open, just like the first. She was once more inside the Dursley's home.

But this scene was quite different from the one previous. Petunia and Dudley Dursley were not in her view…

Harry was cornered against his cupboard and being screamed at by Vernon, whose face was red and swollen with sheer ferocity. Harry was taller than in the last memory, but not much. He looked to be seven or eight years old.

"I clearly remember telling you that you weren't allowed—"

"But I wasn't there!" Harry contested.

"Don't you dare interrupt me!" Vernon said, raising his finger at Harry. "You follow my rules, or I'll kick you out of this house, you ungrateful wastrel! I told you to not to go there and, you didn't listen to me! You're to stay in that cupboard for a week, do you hear me?" he growled.

"Dudley said I went, but I didn't go! He's a liar!" Harry yelled back, and Hermione found herself cheering for him, just before Vernon raised his balled fist and struck Harry across the face.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth, as if she could be heard. Harry started to push himself off the floor when Vernon grabbed Harry by the back of his neck and literally threw him into the cupboard, then locked it. "Don't you ever call Dudley a liar!" Vernon yelled. Then Vernon stormed off in towering rage.

Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't want to see Harry abused like this, she didn't want to know that he'd lived this life. She knew the Dursley's were horrid people, but this? Harry never said anything about it…_ Yes he did. You just thought he was joking… "You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle. Good sense of when to duck, more like…"_

Hermione opened her tear-filled eyes to find herself, yet again, in the hallway of Harry's memories. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, but found they wouldn't go away. Hermione took a turn left and walked for a while, hoping to find Harry's more recent memories where perhaps he was visiting.

She tried not to think about what she'd seen, but found that idea hard. It was easier to put aside when she came to a few special doors, special because not only were they locked, but they had chains across them with padlocks. Extra protection against her. She had no idea what lay beyond them, but figured that, if they were locked so tightly, maybe Harry was behind one of them, wanting solitude. Harry had to know by now that Hermione was sneaking around in his mind. Wouldn't he try protecting himself from her?

Hermione pulled the chain but it didn't budge (not surprisingly). "I can't get in!" she yelled. Maybe Clarice would hear her and give her some advice, but none came.

Hermione yanked on the chain and braced herself against the wall, her feet helping her push. But it wouldn't budge. "COME ON!" she grunted as she tried with all her might. She gave one final pull and the chain snapped. She stumbled to the floor but quickly pulled herself up. Making a mental note that it was not her physical strength but her determination that snapped the chain, Hermione rammed into the door and opened it.

Nothing could've prepared her for what she saw.

The fact was that this wasn't Harry's memory, it was hers. Only it wasn't a memory, as it never happened. No, this was a vision, a fantasy she'd had a little over a year ago when Harry had come to her office for lunch. She remembered having it because at the time the fantasy came to her, she'd been talking to Harry. It had been so embarrassing! She was too good, too moral of a person to be having a fantasy like this one.

The fact that Harry could see Hermione's fantasy and kept it locked under chain in his mind made Hermione want to vomit.

Hermione was staring at herself and Harry… they were in Hermione's office at Sparks Publishing… but she wasn't working and they certainly weren't having a nice lunch. Hermione was pinned down on her desk, which had been cleared of all its contents by Harry. His shirt was open and he was kissing her while unbuttoning her blouse

Real time Hermione wanted to look away from this fantasy, but she seemed compelled to stare at it.

Now Harry's hands were pulling up Hermione's skirt, while his eyes were fixed on hers. Then (if only she could pull her eyes away and run from this room!) he started to settle himself over her hips.

"Hermione," he said in a very sexy voice, looking adoringly into her eyes.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked from beneath him.

"I love you," he said. "I've loved you for years but I've never been strong enough to tell you."

"Oh Harry," she said with a smile, and she kissed him with all the passion she could muster. "I love you."

Real time Hermione felt like puking.

Fantasy Harry grinned and kissed her neck as Fantasy Hermione gasped. Real Time Hermione couldn't watch any longer. She knew how the rest of it played out, and she didn't want to see it, it was too embarrassing knowing Harry had seen it! Hermione turned around and ran out the door before she saw her fantasy self and Harry having sex on her office desk.

She slammed the door behind her and would've locked the door herself, but it locked automatically. Hermione slid to the floor, clutching her heart which raced from mortification. Suddenly she felt a surge of anger toward Harry. That was _her_ fantasy, and he wasn't allowed to see it! How dare he snoop around her mind and find her kinky secrets! And it wasn't as if she could control that. She'd been in her office with Harry having lunch, and he'd looked _so_ good and handsome that the fantasy just came to her. She didn't know he could see it as well. Why didn't he say something about it? Of course, what would he say? "So Hermione, I know about that secret desire you have about me shagging you senseless…?" Maybe not.

She was a mature young woman, and it wasn't unheard of to have sexual desires. She was allowed to have them, and it wasn't going to stop her from saving Harry.

She took a few deep breaths and tried desperately to forgive Harry for seeing that. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he hadn't learned to control his telepathy enough to block it out…

Hermione stood again and began down the hall. She didn't have time to hate Harry, she had to find him, convince him to live, and save him, damn it. She decided, however, to not bust her way into a door with an extra lock on it again. She didn't trust her own brain.

Ron paced Harry's flat balcony and tried to see into Harry's bedroom from the outside windows, but they were still blockaded with curtains.

"She'll do fine," Marc said to him as he handed Ron a glass of ice tea.

"I wish I could see…" said Ron. "I wish they'd tell us what's going on!" Ron stomped back into the flat and went to pound on the bedroom door when Ashika stormed out of the room like she was on a mission.

"What's happening in there?" Ron demanded.

Ashika walked to the kitchen and picked up a bowl and a cloth. "She hasn't found Harry yet," she said. "Her temperature is rising, and his is dropping. Do me a favor and falcon the Healers. I'm not sure how to stabilize Hermione or Harry."

"Can you break the connection?" Marc asked.

"That would kill them," she replied. She filled the bowl with cool water and grabbed her cloth and started for the bedroom.

"Can I help?" Ron asked, trying and failing to sound calm.

"Yes. Falcon my Healer. She's on the sofa. Just tell her to get help, and she'll know what to do."

Ron walked back to the living room and saw an elegant falcon perched on the sofa, looking curiously at him with round yellow eyes. "Uh," Ron said, but urgently, "get the Healer here?"

The falcon launched off the sofa and flew around the room then slipped into a whirling vortex that it seemed to create and was gone. Ron thought it would take a few hours before the Healer arrived, but it only took a matter of seconds. The Healer came to the door and let herself in, then allowed Ron to escort her to the bedroom. Ron saw Harry and Hermione sprawled out on the bed briefly before the door was shut; a strange white beam connected their heads.

"What's happening?" the Healer asked.

Ashika took her to Hermione and Harry. "Every degree she gains he loses. We're trying to bring him out of this coma by convincing him. Hermione agreed to link telepathically with Starling as the conduit. So far Hermione hasn't found him. Each hour that they're unconscious she heats up, and he cools down. Is there a way to stabilize them without breaking the link, which could kill them?"

The Healer studied Hermione's red, wet face then at Harry's sheet white face.

"I'm not sure," she said. She gathered more blankets and piled them over Harry and encouraged Ashika to damp Hermione's face with a wet cloth, like she'd been doing. "The sooner she gets him out of that coma the better. But the longer they go the hotter she'll get. If she breaks a certain temperature, she'll burn out. Can you determine their status?"

Ashika pointed to Clarice, who also had a white beam shooting out of her head that was connected to Hermione and Harry's beam, forming a very wavy 'T'. Clarice's eyes were shut, but she was weeping.

"I have no idea, but I think Clarice sees what Hermione sees. It's been hours since we started this, but I'm losing hope. Harry really doesn't want to be found."

The Healer put her hand on Ashika's shoulder. "How did you come up with this idea?" she asked.

Ashika sighed. "Someone rescued me from this same fate."

Hermione had been through thirteen more doors but hadn't found Harry yet. If anything she was losing hope and was beginning to see Harry's attitude toward life. The door she had just been in lead to Sirius's murder, which Harry had also witnessed. Before that Hermione saw Voldemort rise again and torture Harry, and three doors prior to that Hermione saw a Dementor leering at Harry and Sirius. But she wouldn't give him up yet. Somewhere down this hall of memories past, Harry was watching and waiting for death.

She blast her way into another door, this memory appeared to be more recent. She was in Harry's darkened flat so it had to be post-Hogwarts. It was clearly late at night and there was no light in the room. Hermione searched for Harry.

He was huddled in a corner, his legs held to his chest, his head on his knees. Hermione stopped and decided ten feet from him was close enough. She looked down on him and couldn't control her own tears as she watched twenty year-old Harry sobbing uncontrollably. Hermione had never seen Harry cry, not even in the past few doors. She knew he probably did, but she'd never seen him do it. Yet here he was. In his flat alone, crying. He wasn't even trying to stop. And quite suddenly a voice filled Hermione's ears, maybe even the room…_"Remember how you would go to your flat in London and huddle in a dark corner and cry?" _Audrey's voice sounded_. "No one noticed. No one saw how miserable you really were. Hermione had her family to go to during the holidays. Ron did as well. So you were left alone, again. You had saved them, Harry. You were the hero of the world. But you were twenty years old and completely and totally alone in the world, the world you saved. That's when you tried something you hadn't attempted in many years. You prayed, Harry. You didn't even know that's what you did. You pleaded into the night to be happy. You prayed for me."_

Hermione remembered. It was the Christmas of 2000. She went to Milan with her parents to enjoy the holiday and Ron took a trip with Fred, George, and Charlie to New Zealand. Harry had said he was spending the holidays with his friends from Auror training when Hermione had told him her plans. She believed him. Now, though, she could see that Harry had lied so Hermione wouldn't feel guilty about having a good time.

And so Harry, alone and hero of the world, sat huddled like a scared child, like the child he once was, and spent Christmas in a dark, empty, and cold room with no one to see him, no one to hear him.

Hermione took a few steps closer and saw Harry mouthing something. She got even closer.

"Please," he whined quietly, tears streaming down his face, "I don't want to be alone any more." He sniffed loudly and wiped his face, but the tears didn't stop flowing. "I don't wanna be alone anymore. I don't want to be alone," he whimpered over and over again.

Hermione didn't realize she was crying with him. "We were here," she said despite the fact that Harry couldn't hear her. "You should've told us," she cried back. "Why didn't you tell us, Harry?"

She turned and ran out of this memory. She couldn't stand it any longer. She didn't want to see how miserable a life her best friend had led. She didn't want to see any of it. But she didn't want to lose him to death either…

Hermione sprint down the hall of memories past, hoping to pass years of horrid memories to find a happy one. Maybe Harry was reliving his happy memories before dying.

Suddenly a door opened on its own. Hermione slid to a stop and ran into it.

Christmas again. But Harry wasn't alone.

He was throwing tinsel on a tall Christmas tree, but he wasn't in his London flat, and he wasn't on Privet drive. No, he was in his twenties, so this was a very recent memory, perhaps within the past couple of years.

A woman passed Hermione. Audrey. Audrey wore a red silk dress that shined as she walked gracefully toward Harry, who heard her coming and turned around to beam at her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi back," she replied with a smile. She brushed tinsel out of his hair then kissed him, a private, longing, kiss of true love, suitable for the movies. "Looks good," she said, looking at Harry but referring to the tree.

Harry blushed a little but kept grinning at her. "I'm not sure I like it," he said with a shrug.

From behind the tree came Dana, who was much shorter and rounder than she was now. This Dana had to be two years old, or around that age. Her dimpled smile made Harry laugh and she hugged Harry's leg. He hesitated before picking her up. He kissed her cheeks and made her laugh. But Dana yawned and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder and rested her eyes.

"She's attached to you," Audrey said, winding one arm around Harry's back, and the other caressing her daughter's face.

Harry grinned again then grabbed Audrey around the waist with his free hand. Audrey laughed then kissed Harry with a hungry passion that he matched.

"I love you," she said to him when she pulled back to look into his eyes. Even from a distance Hermione could read utmost sincerity in Audrey's dark eyes and soft voice.

Harry laughed and said, "Awww."

"It's polite to return the affection, you know," Audrey said with a wink.

Harry sobered and brushed hair out of her eyes. "I love you, Audrey," he said.

Hermione felt her stomach lurch at the sight of them. Harry couldn't stop smiling at Audrey and wouldn't let go of Dana. He looked blissful. Completely blissful, without a care or concern in the world. His complete happiness looked strange on his face, as it was rarely there.

After all Hermione had seen from this man's life, this was the saddest memory. Harry deserved this life, and he should've had it permanently. Hermione's anger for Audrey flared up again. How dare she dangle this in front of him and yank it away. He wanted this life; he wanted it terribly, more than he'd ever wanted anything. Audrey trapped him with it; she ensnared him and tainted this wonderful life with evil. Harry worked so hard for this life, the life he deserved, but it wasn't real.

The memory dissolved and the door opened for her. She walked back into the hall and saw another open door across the hall. Like before, she went inside.

Hermione was standing in a small room, a formal room, with certificates and awards and plaques on the wall. And up ahead of her were four people. A man she didn't know wearing formal attire. He held a book, wore a smile, and read to the two people standing before him, facing each other.

Harry held Audrey's hands in his, and held her gaze in his eyes. Dana was skipping around the three of them, wearing a pink gown and a silver tiara.

"And will you, Harry James Potter, take Audrey to be your wife? To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" the stranger asked.

Harry took a deep breath and smiled nervously but said firmly, "I will."

So Hermione was watching Harry's small wedding. Harry pulled a ring from his pocket and slipped it on Audrey's finger. Audrey had already put Harry's on.

The man marrying them smiled and continued on. "With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Harry," he said with a grin, "you can kiss her now."

Harry smiled and didn't hesitate. He met Audrey halfway and kissed her delicately, as if she were made of glass; like she was precious.

"Yay!" Dana yelled and ran at Harry and her mother. Harry laughed and lifted her up into the air and spun her around before kissing her.

Audrey couldn't stop grinning as she looked at Harry, and he wouldn't pull his eyes away from her. His smile was so magnetic and powerful when he was this happy, Hermione saw that now. This was how Harry should always be. When he smiled like that, all of his suffering melted away.

"We're married," he said to his brand new wife, the woman who would betray him and dash his heart onto shards of glass.

Audrey nodded and hugged him the way Hermione had done just before confronting Audrey with the truth.

Hermione didn't cry, though she had in most of Harry's memories. Instead she felt something deep down in her gut, but it wasn't anger, it wasn't sadness, it wasn't jealousy. She wanted, more than she wanted anything, for Harry to have this again. She wanted him to smile like he smiled now. Whatever it was, whatever would bring that boyish grin back to his face, Hermione would get it. It didn't matter what it would take, she would make it so. If Harry saw a woman that made him grin like that, Hermione would do whatever she could to get her for him.

But she had to find him first.

Ashika had allowed Ron and Marc to come in the room with them. Ron cooled Hermione's face with an icepack. Her cheeks had flushed pink a few hours ago and now her entire face was red and oozing sweat. Every now and then Hermione would mutter something, but it was so incoherent no one understood her.

Harry, on the other hand, shivered. The Healer had brought in special blankets with heating pads, which attempted to bring Harry's temperature up. The blankets may have helped a little, but his temperature still dropped. They were failing. Harry's skin was so white it was nearly translucent. His face had turned green and was now becoming blue.

The monitor above his head showed a dropped temperature and a slower pulse. His brain waves were still functioning, but they too were dropping.

Ron took Hermione's free hand and looked back at Clarice Starling, whose face was screwed up in determination.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron whispered. "You've got to hurry."

If there was an order to these memories, then that meant there was an end to them. If she started in Harry's early years and she'd just seen him marry Audrey, then Harry's memories came to an end. Memories weren't infinite. He was only twenty-four and there had to be an end.

Hermione sprinted down the hall passing door after door, many of which opened for her as she ran. But she was onto Harry now. He wanted to distract her so she couldn't find him. Well, if Hermione was anything, it was clever, and Harry wasn't going to outsmart her now, even if she was in his mind, playing by his rules.

Suddenly the wooden hallway morphed into black. Hermione slowed to a jog but kept running. But a curious creature intercepted her and blocked her path.

A hippogriff. Buckbeak.

Hermione came to a halt. Buckbeak came at her. He screamed at her, thrust his magnificent head toward her, sharp beak open and ready. He spread his wings and reared at her.

"He's not real," Hermione told herself, but bowed none the less. "I'm getting close."

Buckbeak, however, was not interested in diplomacy. Hermione heard him canter toward her. She leapt out of her bow and dodged him. She wasn't going to let him chase her away, not when she was this close. Buckbeak reared, spread his wings, and slashed at her with his talons. Hermione screamed but she was able to evade him and managed to skirt past him and run. Buckbeak chased after her, and a spine-chilling screech followed the sound of his clattering hooves and scraping talons on the ground.

Hermione ran as fast as her dream body could run. Up ahead was a solid black door. The door leading to the Department of Mysteries.

Buckbeak was closing in on her, but she was determined to stop Harry. She ran to the door, smashed into it, and fell into the circular room of the Department of Mysteries. There were twelve doors here and Hermione wondered which one led to the right chamber.

She knew she didn't have much time, she knew Buckbeak might be close behind her, but she couldn't help but wonder which door to take. Hoping she made the right choice, Hermione ran at the door directly opposite the one she'd just come through.

And now she stood in a dimly lit rectangular room which she'd been before. At fist glance it looked much like a medieval amphitheater with cold stone benches surrounding the center of the room, which sunk down.

In the center was a raised platform on which stood an ancient archway, held neither by walls or the ceiling. Hanging from that archway was a tattered, worn, old veil of the darkest black. It fluttered peacefully, as if waving at her with welcoming intentions.

Hermione walked down toward the archway.

Harry sat on a bench close to the veil, his hands in his lap, his head facing his hands.

"You shouldn't have come, Hermione," he said to her solemnly. He didn't face her even though she sat beside him.

"I had to come," she told him. "Harry, we have to get out of here."

Harry smiled to himself, but not the smile she'd seen when he married Audrey; this was a haunting, sinister smile. "You're right," he said.

Hermione felt a chill. Harry lifted his head and looked at the fluttering veil. "I should've gone through already," he said.

Hermione watched the veil sway tranquilly though there wasn't any breeze. "You can't, Harry. It's not your time."

Harry turned to face her, still wearing that sick smile. He laughed softly and said, "No it's not. My time was years ago."

"No it wasn't," Hermione argued. They didn't have time for this. As they spoke, Harry slid towards to the veil… as time passed Harry got _closer_ to the veil. She noticed that she was sliding with him. "Harry," she said, trying to ignore this new development, "you have to live. You're not ready yet." Why weren't the right words coming to her? She sounded like a babbling idiot!

Harry turned to the veil again, pointing at it casually. "I've seen the other side, you know. I should've gone through when I had the chance, when I had the choice." He sighed and shook his head. "It's so peaceful. Damn is it peaceful."

Hermione felt her lip tremble. "What about Dana?" she asked him. "Are you just going to orphan her? You're just going to leave her behind without a father or a mother? You're going to do to her what Voldemort did to you?" she asked.

Harry laughed cruelly. "And why doesn't she have a mother Hermione?" he asked, snapping his head around to glare at her. "Audrey was my responsibility, not yours," he hissed.

"We don't have time for this, Harry. I'm sorry I killed her; I really am. It wasn't what I wanted to do, and it wasn't what I wanted for you. But you were going to join her; I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let you become part of her, to be evil like she was. I had to think about everyone else, not you."

Harry stood and clenched his fists, shaking them at her. "That was my choice! Not yours. Stop meddling in my life. This is my life, and I can do with it what I want!"

"No you can't," she said. "You're not thinking clearly Harry. You've lost Audrey--"

"Don't make it sound like it was a tragic accident!" he said acidly. "You killed her. She's dead because of you. How did it make you _feel_, Hermione? Did you feel powerful? Did it make you feel _good_? It's such an interesting feeling, isn't it, ending a life. Did you enjoy it? Would you do it again if you could?" he asked her, his face red, his eyes full of trapped tears.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "I didn't enjoy it. I had to do it, Harry. She was corrupting you."

Harry laughed now, though his eyes were still brimming with tears, his eyes looking greener, if that was possible. "Corrupting me? She was right about everything, Hermione. Everything! I enjoyed killing those men. I _enjoyed_ slaying them."

"I don't believe you," she said. She tried ignoring their closing proximity to the black veil.

"That's because you're naïve and lack the proper intelligence. Books are all well and good, but you can't read me. You didn't want to see how I killed them, did you? You wouldn't walk into that door, would you? But it's there if you want to go back. It's still open," he said with a hateful smirk.

"I know this is hard for you, but you can't leave your daughter. Audrey is dead, she's dead. I killed her because I had to. I saw that look in your eyes. You were going to go with her and would've done God only knows what with her. You knew it was wrong. Don't try to pretend that I was the sole perpetrator in this. It's over now," she said. "Leucosia is dead. Remember that's who it really was, Harry. Leucosia. The thing that put you through a new kind of hell! Are you going to run away, be a coward for the first time in your life, and leave your daughter behind? You're going to orphan her? What kind of father does that to his own little girl?" she yelled.

Harry stared into his eyes, his face strangely blank. He didn't answer right away. He squinted into her eyes as if trying to see what she was thinking. Finally he spoke. "I'm not her father."

"Of course you are," Hermione insisted, sounding rougher than she intended.

He shook his head at her. "No I'm not. Her father died years ago. Dana doesn't remember him and she sure won't remember me."

Hermione was dumbstruck. "Why are you saying this?" she asked shrilly.

"Because it's true," he replied. He didn't appear angry anymore, which was a step in the right direction, but now he was pensive and determined.

"Harry," Hermione said, trying to sound rational, "Dana loves you. Can't you see that? Can't you see that she adores you? And you love her back! What you're saying doesn't make sense."

"She's so young right now," he said, nodding to himself. "In a few years she won't remember me. She'll have images of me, I guess, but she won't remember who I was. And she'll be taken care of. She'll be cared for better than I could care for her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped. She looked at the veil in the corner of her eye, yet tried to remain focused on Harry.

"I thought you would've figured that out," he said. "Parenting is a learned skill. It's imprinted. I don't know how to raise a little girl. I don't know how to raise _any_ child."

"Yes you do!" she screamed. "Dana loves you. She adores you, and she's worried sick about you. Harry how can you abandon her?"

"Hermione," Harry said with a tired sigh, "you think you know everything, but there are so many things you don't understand. She loved me, sure, when I had Audrey to help. But Audrey's gone. You killed her." Harry turned around and walked back to sit down on his bench. "I'm sure that, at some point in the future, I would've hurt Dana. And if I did, if I hurt her with my words or with my hand, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And I know I would hurt her. She deserves a good life, one that I can't give her. I'm not a good father. I wasn't even a very good husband to Audrey. Domestic life was too hard for me." He forced a laugh. "How fucked up is that?"

Hermione saw the ground move beneath her feet. "You're a very good father," she said. "You won't hurt her because you love her too much. You have to come back with me. We'll help you with Dana. I'll help you, but you can't leave her. You have to see her live."

Hermione watched his face and saw a tear trickle down his face. "And watch her die?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, perplexed by his question.

"I can't out live her," he said, his voice raspy as he cried freely. "I don't want to out live her. I can't watch her leave me."

"Why do you assume--"

"Wake up, Hermione," he said to her, turning to her so that she could see his red face soaked with tears. "Everyone leaves me. Everyone I've loved. They're all gone. They always go before me, and I can't watch Dana die. I can't do it, and I won't. I won't survive my little girl!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stared at him. So it wasn't solely about Audrey. He didn't want to watch Dana die. If he died now, he wouldn't ever have to see that. Hermione had to admit to herself that Harry's reasoning for this was well founded.

"Do you understand now?" he asked her. "You know why I have to go? This way I'll never have to bury my child. I'll never have to out live her. And I'm not afraid of death. It's peaceful. On the other side of that veil are people who loved me, but were taken from me. I want to go, Hermione. Please just let me go!"

Hermione raked her hands through her hair. She felt as if there were hands tightening around her throat. "Harry, I don't want to die."

"I never asked you to do this. I never asked you to rescue me," he said. "This was your choice, not mine. I'm ready for this, I have been for years."

"No," she said. "I can't let you do this. You have to come back with me; you have to watch Dana live. You have to love her. You can't leave her an orphan. What about Ron? What about your future, Dana's future? Don't you want to see that?"

"And I will from the other side," he said calmly.

Hermione wept soundlessly. "I don't want do die," she mumbled. "Please, Harry, I want to live! I want to live with you!"

Harry looked up her and gave her a strange smile. "Playing the hero isn't what it's cracked up to be, is it? I said already that I didn't ask for this. I have been ready for death for so long. I wasn't meant to live this long, can't you realize that? I was born to neutralize Voldemort, and I've done that. I wasn't meant to be a husband or a father." He smiled a little. "I was born to be a hero, and I was one. But I don't want to be anymore. I don't want to live anymore. I'm tired. I'm so tired of suffering. The moment I found true happiness, it was tainted with evil, I'll admit to that. Leucosia was evil, but I loved her so much. So you see, no matter where I go, evil follows me. I fell in love with it. How can I fight it? It's time someone else deal with it, not me."

"Harry, I--"

Harry continued quickly, noting how close they were to the veil. "I wanted you to be happy with a man who would treat you right. I know you've been wondering. I know what you've seen, Hermione. I know what you saw. And I've known for years, even before that, the way you really felt about me. It's the reason you're here now, isn't it?"

Hermione tried mustering a smile, but fond that her facial muscles weren't working properly. "Then why Audrey?" she asked. Not even Sirius would answer this question to her liking.  
Harry sighed again. "Dear, pathetic Hermione," he said. "Haven't you guessed by now? I used to think you deserved the world. You deserved someone who would always make you smile and never make you cry. I'm afraid I did too much of the latter to you. And I'm sorry I did. I never wanted to hurt you, but I always managed it. And if I hurt you so bad, when I wanted to make you happy, could you imagine how Dana would turn out? It's more than that, Hermione. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to have children and grandchildren and go out into the world with them. If you'd had me, you'd be afraid. You'd be a weapon for my enemies."

Hermione wiped her eyes. "Harry, Audrey was evil and I'm sorry that she was, but you have to come out of this. I'm sorry I had to kill her, but I saw you wanted to join her, and I couldn't let that happen. I had to think about the rest of the world. God, Harry, I wanted you to have her. I wanted you to be with her and be happy. I wanted to be wrong about her. I wanted to be jealous that she had you. I never wanted this for you! Please know that I wanted you to be happy. But you can't leave. You have to live for your daughter."

Harry angled his head so that he could watch the veil grow closer yet still see Hermione. "On the other side of that veil is peace. It's _peace_. I can finally know that everything is okay. No more suffering, no more pain, no more death, only joy."

Hermione fell to the floor. But she didn't feel any weaker like she expected, she felt stronger. "What's happening?" she asked him.

"I'm letting you go back," he said to her. "You're not ready yet."

"No," Hermione said, grabbing his knee. "I'm not going without you!"

"Then you're not going back. Listen to me and listen well. The hardest thing about this world is living in it. I've lived miraculously, cheating death, choosing against it, for twenty-four years and I'm done. My time has passed."

"NO!" Hermione howled. "Harry please, please come back with me! Think of Dana! This is stupid Harry, that's what this is. Don't be a coward. Please come back for Dana. You don't want to leave her, I know you don't. Killing yourself is not the way to prove your love for her. What will she think when she finds out you killed yourself because you didn't want to be with her?"

Harry frowned. "She won't think that," he said, but Hermione detected doubt in his voice.

"She will," Hermione said. "Someone will tell her what really happened. She'll ask because she'll remember you. She'll wonder where you went. What do we tell her, Harry? Do we say that you left her because you were so sick of life and miserable that you died? That you were terrified you'd lose her before she lost you? How will she react when she learns you didn't love her enough to live for her?"

Harry's frown became more pronounced. "No one will tell her that."

"You don't think the story will leak? Everyone will know what you did, Harry. Dana _will_ find out eventually." Hermione shook her head and laughed. "You're going to orphan you're little girl because you're so selfish."

"_Selfish_?" he asked her. "I'm selfish? When have I been selfish? That saving people thing made me selfish, did it? Tell me Herm---wait. Wait, that reverse psychology won't work on me."

"You think I'm trying to trick you? You think I'm bluffing? Fine. What about it is false?" she asked.

The veil was now so close Hermione could feel the wind it was producing. A warm, welcoming wind.

Harry stared at her but didn't answer. "I came to save a life," Hermione growled. "You're too precious to die, Harry. Don't you want to watch Dana grow old? Don't you wish you'd had a father to teach you to play ball, to love you, to show you how to be a good father? Don't you wish Sirius could've seen you married and been there for you? Don't you wish you could've had Christmas with your family, with your mother and father? They were robbed from you. You suffered for all of us, but now you're going to make Dana suffer because you did? Dana lights up your life. I've seen how you are with her, Harry. She's your reason for living. Don't deny it. She's your light!" she cried. "Don't you want to see her in love and married? Don't you want to see her happy, to see her dance and sing?"

Harry's eyes moistened again.

"Harry there's suffering in life but there's so much good," she said, feeling that, for the first time, she was reaching him. "You can never stop living, Harry, not when you have Dana to live for. She's amazing. How can you possibly think of leaving her? There is no greater love than a parent for his child."

At that Harry cried again, like he'd heard those words before.

"Everyone can see how much you love her. She's your world, and you're going to give her up for death, for people who will always be behind that veil?"

Harry stood, and so did Hermione. The veil was inches away.

"It's too late, Hermione," he said.

"No it's not. You can wake up right now."

Harry shook his head and turned toward the veil. "No," he said. "I don't want to feel that way again."

"Audrey's death will pass from you," Hermione said firmly. "Take as long or as short a time as you like to mourn her passing and to hate me. I don't care. You have to take care of your little girl. You have to, Harry. Death will always be there," she said, half laughing. "Don't you want a life you're proud of before you die? You can't end like this, dying slowly in your bed, your daughter in the care of strangers. You have to go out fighting. You're a hero, remember? Heroes don't die like this, they don't wallow in self-pity, they take action. Take Dana and live!"

Harry turned to her, put his hands on her face and said, "Wake up."

The Death Chamber turned into a swirling haze. Hermione opened her eyes to see Ashika and Ron huddled over her, looking deathly worried. Clarice sagged in the distant chair, clearly relieved of her mental burden. Everyone was talking so fast, Ron crowded her, Ashika pelted her with questions, but she couldn't listen. She gripped Harry's hand and turned to watch his face. He wasn't waking up.

She squeezed his hand. "Come on," she whispered weakly. "Come on. Harry," she pleaded, but he wasn't waking up. His eyes, once so full of life, were dull. As she shook his hand his eyelids, to her horror, shut. "No," she said, shaking his hand though she didn't have the strength to make much of a difference. "No Harry. Come on. Come on. Come on, Harry." She tried shaking his entire body now. "Come on," she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of reality. "Harry, come on. HARRY!" she cried. "HARRY, NO!" she howled, unable to control her sobbing. "HARRY!"

She dropped down to his chest and shook him slightly, which was as much as she could do. But his body was cold, and Hermione wouldn't admit what she was thinking. She kept shaking him, sobbed into his neck, and stroked his hair with one of her hands. Harry wasn't moving…she couldn't hear him breathing. She'd failed. Harry had died because she had failed.

Her head rose steadily but she didn't move her neck.

Harry took a long deep breath then exhaled. Then he took another. Hermione sat up and took his hand again. "Breath!" she commanded. Everyone in the room held their breath as Harry took his.

Harry took another breath and slowly opened his eyes, which were brimming with tears. Hermione dropped down to the bed and held him, weeping tears of joy now, knowing that he was alive.

But Harry pried her arms off of him and pushed her away.

"Harry?"

Harry shook, and his face returned to a pale pink; the tears overflowed and dripped down the sides of his face. He didn't look at her, but rolled over to his side, then his stomach, his face in his pillow. Hermione went to touch him, but Clarice held her back.

"No," she whispered with the shake of her head.

Hermione could feel Harry's whole body shake as he wept into his pillow.

"I want to stay with him," Hermione said, yanking her hand out of Clarice's vice-like grip.

"No," Ashika said, then pulled Hermione away. "Leave him alone."

"He doesn't want to be alone!" Hermione yelled and tried to get back to Harry, but didn't have the strength to fight all of them. Ron, Ashika, and Clarice were dragging her away from Harry. She turned her head back and saw one of the Healers tending to Harry, who was sobbing into his pillow.

She was taken to the guest room and laid down on the soft bed. The Healers administrated potions and checked her vitals. They talked to each other about what was wrong with her and what she needed, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to listen.

Ron forced himself through the small crowd and sat down beside her on the bed. Hermione looked up at him and saw that his face was changing from green to its normal freckled hue. "You did it," he said weakly, then cleared his throat. "You did it," he said again, in case she didn't hear him the first time.

Hermione nodded to him. It was all she could do. Now that she knew Harry was alive, now that she knew Leucosia was no longer a threat, it was all she could do to stay awake.

"Hermione?" one of the Healers said. "I need you to rest. I need for you to sleep for as long as you'd like. Eight hours or more if you can manage."

Hermione nodded. She was sure she could sleep for at least eight hours. Though she was in a form of REM sleep, she had been so stressed and afraid she'd fail that it really couldn't count towards sleep or rest.

"Okay," she breathed.

Hermione shut her tired eyes. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been this tired. She heard Ron settle himself in a chair next to her, and she was so glad that he did. He could watch over her and keep her safe, from what she didn't know, but it was just the idea. With that last deep breath, Hermione nodded off.

---o---o---o---

_No, it's not over yet! I'm sure most of you recognize that, but I probably convinced some that it's all over. No, still one more chapter to wrap things up. Stay with me!_

_Notes: Thanks to my team of betas, Elizabeth, Mina, and Apryl. _

_The line "the hardest thing about this world is living in it," is from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, season five, episode 22, "The Gift."_

_And on a minor note, when you have dreams about your teeth falling out, it could mean you have unfinished business, you're too shy, or you talk too much. Incase you were wondering…_

_And "incase" is a real word, I looked it up in the dictionary myself just to verify it. _


	14. Once Upon a Time

Note: _Welcome to the final chapter of The Human Condition. Thank you all for reading and being patient with my chapter updates (though you didn't really have a choice about that). I started the story over a year ago and now it's finally ending. Finishing a story is like saying goodbye to a good friend; I'll miss spending so much time with these characters and it saddens me that I can no longer witness their growth, challenges, and delights. I can only hope that you've enjoyed this story at least a fraction as much as I have. This chapter is sooo long because I have to wrap things up and I didn't want to let go. _

_Thanks to my wonderful beta readers, Elizabeth, who's been cleaning this story since the beginning, and Mina and Apryl, my newer team members. They catch what I miss._

Chapter Fourteen: Once Upon a Time

After being pushed and pestered long enough, Clarice left Harry's room late the next morning; she was ready to go home to rest. Ashika Narayan thanked her on bended knee for helping Harry see the light at the end of the tunnel-literally. Clarice accepted the thanks, smiled, then entered the room where Hermione was finally coming out of a deep and needed sleep.

"Hello, dear," Clarice said softly.

"Hello," Hermione yawned.

Clarice hobbled over to the bed and sat down beside her. She smoothed out a few creases on the bed with her thin hands, then peered into Hermione's eyes with her cloudy blue ones. "The Healers say you're fine. I asked if I could tell you because I wanted to say something else."

Hermione pushed herself up. If she'd been a dog, she would've perked her ears. Clarice's eyes suddenly softened, and she reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand with a firm, warm grip. "Yes?" Hermione asked.

Clarice took a breath and smiled. "Thank you," she said in a hushed voice that made Hermione feel secretive. "Thank you for saving him. I know it was very hard, but thank you."

Hermione tried to say "you're welcome," but the words wouldn't form. Instead, she asked, "Is Harry doing okay?"

Clarice made a impassive face. "He's out of his coma," she said warmly. "I made him eat this morning, but he's still upset. He's lost someone very precious to him. It'll take time for that wound to heal, just like the others. I told him that Dana is supposed to come by this afternoon, and he _seemed_ happy about it. So to answer your question, yes, I suppose he's… okay."

Hermione nodded and rolled her eyes to a button on her blouse. "He's still furious with me, isn't he?" she asked, though she felt she already knew the answer.

Clarice smiled sadly. "Narayan and Sirius were right; he won't always be. I promise you that he won't always be furious with you. He'll see. One day he'll understand why you had to do what you did."

Hermione tensed. "When we were talking, he was so angry with me, but then he wasn't. For some stupid reason I thought that would be the end of it. I'm not sure _why_ I thought he got over his anger so quickly. Harry never calms down like that. But he didn't seem upset---"

"He didn't want you to have that last memory of him. He put his anger aside to tell you why he wanted to leave. I'm afraid that he's still quite angry."

Hermione bobbed her head and ran her tongue over her dried lips. "You saw everything I saw?" she asked, wanting to make sure she understood clearly.

"Yes," Clarice answered. "You played your cards right. Telling him to live for Dana and placing guilt on him was the perfect technique."

Hermione smiled to herself but she didn't feel happy. "How long should I wait before talking to him?"

Clarice got slowly to her feet. She held the small of her back with her hand as she grimaced while straightening her back. "Ooo," she said squinting from the pain, "I'm not as young as I used to be." She hobbled for the door, her feet shuffling on the floor. "When you think the time is right, the time will be right. I can't see the future you know," she said kindly with a wink.

"Ms. Starling?" Hermione asked just before Clarice left.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Clarice beamed at her. "You're welcome, Hermione. I couldn't have done it alone either. Rest up, now. You still need it. I think I'll see you some time again." She didn't say goodbye; she simply left without fanfare like Sirius had done.

Hermione waited a few moments before getting out of bed and changing into fresh clothes that someone had left for her. Her mind buzzed with the recent visions, images, and memories that had permeated her consciousness. She wished she wouldn't think of it all, but her mind wouldn't cease.

Out in Harry's living room were Ron and Marc Simon but no one else. Ron shot out of his seat when he saw Hermione. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

Hermione crossed her arms and smiled. "Better. Listen, I'm going to go see my family. I know they're worried sick about me. They'll want to see me and hear the story behind my disappearance. What are you going to do?"

Ron leaned on the back of the sofa. "Someone has to stay here for a while, just to make sure he doesn't do anything rash, like hang himself, or burst into flames or something. I agreed to pull the first shift of Harry-sitting."

Hermione tried swallowing, but again she didn't have the proper amount of saliva. "Oh," she said. "Have you spoken to him?"

Ron shook his head. "He's been in that room the whole time. Clarice said I should check on him every few hours, just to make sure he's still alive. And I have to make him eat something so he can't starve himself."

"Unless he pukes like a bulimic," Hermione added.

"He can't do that," Marc said. "There's a potion put in all his food that makes it impossible for him to vomit it up."

Hermione sighed with relief. Good, at least he couldn't starve. She wanted to go peek in on Harry but knew he'd throw something at her, or just curse at her. After all, it was her fault he was in there breathing and living. It might take months before he thanked her, if he ever did.

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron said brightly.

"What?" she asked, returning a grin.

Ron stood again and walked toward her with a look of the deepest sincerity and said, "It's good to have you back. Don't believe for a second that Harry didn't miss you, too. We all did."

Despite the bittersweet situation, Hermione felt herself blushing and smiling like a teenage girl.

Ron's cheeks got a little pink too, just by looking at her smile. "After you see your family, we have to catch up. A lot has happened since you left," he said.

Hermione hiked up an eyebrow. "Oh really? Like what?"

Ron couldn't contain himself. It would've been inappropriate and insensitive of him to tell Harry, who was having problems of his own, and to expect him to be happy for Ron. But he had to tell someone other than his family.

"I was accepted into Auror Training." he said proudly.

Hermione's face lit up as she jumped into his arms. "Ron that's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You've finally done it! Congratulations!" she said, then kissed his cheeks. "You have to tell me all about it."

"Later," he said with a nod and a grin. "Go see your family."

Hermione wiped her happy tears with her fingers but kissed Ron's cheek again. "Your father must be so proud."

"He is," Ron said with a sigh. "He really is. Fred and George thought I was joking when I told them and, for punishment, they pushed me in a stream by the house. Ginny's told everyone she's ever met."

Hermione couldn't stop grinning that day. Ron's happiness buoyed her away from Harry's depression. Only twenty minutes after she spoke with Ron she ran into the outstretched arms of her mother and father and felt like she was six years old, basking in their love, grateful that she had it.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Marc Simon left. He didn't want to see Harry, for he didn't really have anything to say. Maybe one day he'd come back, apologize for his actions and misconceptions, but today was not appropriate.

So Ron was left in Harry's flat alone. Well, not totally alone. Harry was still locked away in his room, probably with the curtains blocking sunlight. There was a possibility that Vanessa would bring Dana home, but Ron wasn't sure that was the best idea.

Later that morning, as noon approached, Dobby returned. He didn't need explanations. Maybe it was an elf sixth sense, but Dobby knew what had happened and how Harry was and would be. He made himself busy in the kitchen and prepared a simple lunch for his employer: peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of milk.

"I'll take it to him," Ron said, more like insisted. He wanted to see Harry, wanted to check on him for himself. As he balanced the tray in his two hands, approaching the double doors of Harry's room, Ron clearly heard a pounding noise. Ron pushed open a door and edged inside.

Harry was out of bed, which was a great improvement. He was dressed in casual attire: a black tank-top and work-out pants. At the moment he was venting his anger out on a punching bag, which had been returned a few days previously. Harry had his head bent low, his fists held high, and then he would strike.

Ron stood and watched for a few minutes, wondering if it was safe to approach. Looking at Harry, you'd never have thought he'd been bedridden, in a coma, and ready to die not long before. Harry appeared to be at full strength, huffing and growling as he punched, swung, and kicked at the bag. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and temples, and his upper arms and chest were shiny with perspiration.

Ron cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. Harry continued his punishing regime but told Ron to come in.

Ron sat down the tray on the desk then stood watching Harry for a while. Ron had to admit, from a strictly heterosexual point of view, mind you, that Harry had worked hard to maintain such a physique. There had been a time not too long ago when Harry was tall, lanky, and unimpressive. But now Harry out-muscled not only Ron, but most people Ron knew, including many professional Quidditch players. Looking at him, Ron felt weak. He tried hiding his own body, which, while not scrawny, wasn't as taught or trained as Harry's.

Harry let his arms drop to his sides as he breathed hard. He stared for a long while at that bag, which swung left to right, like a pendulum.

"I brought lunch," Ron said, hoping he sounded cheerful.

Harry didn't move.

"Dobby made it. Peanut butter on whole wheat. I'm not a fan of whole wheat, so I didn't make one for myself," Ron said.

Harry's breathing was calming. He backed away from the bag and picked up a towel to dab himself.

Hermione was always better with this kind of thing; the awkward silences, the over boiling tension. But Hermione wouldn't be welcome for weeks or months. So it was left to Ron to break the tension.

"Harry," Ron started seriously. "I'm really sor---"

"Don't say it," Harry said from across the room. "Don't say it," he mumbled as he dropped the towel.

Ron nodded and folded his hands nervously. "Right. Look, I know you hate this, but I have to make sure that you eat lunch."

Harry shut his eyes and grimaced. He rest his hands on his hips and chewed his bottom lip. "I had the chance to end this, and I didn't. It was easy and painless, and I didn't do it. Now all my painless options are gone. Give me some credit, will you?"

"Sorry," Ron said.

Harry cranked his head back and flipped around to face Ron, to stare him in the eye. "Don't tell me you're sorry," he said. "I don't want people feeling sorry for me, you understand?" he asked, his voice rising steadily. "I don't want your pity or your charity."

Ron stood. "Then what do you want?"

Harry unwrapped the tape from his wrists as he spoke. "I want some bloody respect. I want space. I want everyone to stop meddling in my life. I can take care of myself, thanks," he said, glowering at Ron now. "Been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, and I don't need your help or anyone else's. You got that?" he snapped.

Ron dared himself to move closer to Harry and surprisingly he did. "Harry, I know this must be hard for you. I understand you're in a lot of pain---" and that was as far as he got.

"Shut up," Harry started, the anger coloring his face. "Shut up. You know this must be hard for me? Really? You really know what it's like?" he asked, closing the space between them. "I'll tell you what," he said in a way that gave Ron goose pimples, "let's play a game. We'll call it the Game of My Life. Ready?" he asked, but went on before Ron could back away or put a word in. "Once upon a time there was a cosmic accident which we'll call my conception. Nine months later I was the result, put here by some higher power or cosmic joker to neutralize a threat. That threat tries to kill me and fails. Well, that's where it all began, isn't it? So good old Dumbledore thought it would be best to keep me alive so I could finish the job in sixteen years. Keep me safe. Now I suppose 'safe' is a relative term, isn't it?" he asked, marching forward, marching towards Ron, who kept taking small steps in the other direction.

"So I was safe for ten miserable years. I didn't have what you had. I didn't have brothers or a younger sister, I didn't have a father or a mother, I didn't have a home, or friends, or an escape from the hell I had to live for a later day. Then wonderful Hagrid breaks down a door and tells me my life secrets. Time ticks by but each year my life is threatened by a prophecy-fulfilling mad man. An entire school thinks I'm setting a Basilisk loose and killing people, then a man disguised as a rat slips away and joins Voldemort because I was too noble to have him executed. Then I'm dragged into a tournament that had ridiculous rules which couldn't be changed and am responsible for the death of Diggory and the rise of Voldemort, only to be followed by a year of people thinking I'm insane! Still with me? Is this ringing a bell? How about this? Dragging people into the Department of Mysteries facing death because I fell into a trap! I got my best friend hurt and the only person I had dead. And at this time you had the audacity to envy my fame? To actually harbor jealousy?

"While you and Hermione patrolled corridors and set up decorations, I had curses thrown at me by people preparing me for a battle I didn't want, for a fight I didn't start. When finally that momentous day came, I gave my life for you, for Hermione, for the rest of that ungrateful and fickle world in which I have to live. In a bout of insanity I chose to keep living because I didn't want to leave you or Hermione behind.

"You want to know what happened? You want to know what I regret most, Ron? I regretted that choice the moment I made it, the moment I was put back here. Like buyer's guilt. I was stuck here only to watch the two of you move on with your lives, not knowing how pathetic existence really is.

"Then I kept hearing how wonderful it was to be in love. Oh, the nauseating displays of affection, the disgusting, meaningless words, the empty sex I participated in trying to find out what the rest of you swore and died upon. Love, oh that wonderful feeling!" he yelled. "And I bloody found it in a woman who three years later wanted to rule a race of people with me! Who was murdered, by my _best_ friend, and died in my arms with a knife in her heart. And I hated it; I hated life again. The cosmic joke of my existence still continues. I try to leave it, but I have to be rescued! _Oh, Harry you're so important here, oh how you're needed, oh how you'll be missed!_" He backed away from Ron, noticing he'd put him in a corner, but stood close. "Talk to me again. Tell me you understand when you've played that game! After you've watched people you love die, so you can die for everyone else, get back to me, and we'll have our little heart to heart."

Harry broke away and walked erratically to his lavatory, slamming the door behind him. He braced himself on the sink and stared into the mirror. His face was red from the shouting, his forehead and temples throbbed with pain and oozed sweat. His shirt was soaking. His whole frame was trembling with adrenaline, with a frustrated anger he'd harbored for years. His facial and arm muscles twitched and tightened. And those beautiful green eyes all those women drowned in looked upon him with loathing and disgust.

How dare anyone, _anyone, _tell him they understood what he was going through. How dare Ron look upon him with eyes gushing with pity, or speak to him in a voice dripping with sympathy. Ron, the ungrateful and moronic fool, would never understand. Not ever.

Yet a rope of guilt pulled at Harry's conscience. Ron was only here to make sure Harry was safe, not to parade his happiness or listen to Harry's ranting. Harry hated himself as he heard his cruel voice echoing in his mind. That hissing voice that filled those hateful words with poison. Ron didn't deserve that.

Harry slammed his fists into the mirror and shattered it. The shards of glass clattered and crashed onto the sink and hard floor. Harry opened the door, intending to see and apologize to Ron, but Ron wasn't in the room. Harry ran the length of his flat. Ron was picking up his coat, preparing to walk out and leave him.

"Ron, I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, though a _tiny_ part of him wasn't. How dare he pretend to understand. Still, the presentation wasn't exactly smooth and swift. "I'm sorry."

Ron turned around to face him but said nothing. He stared at Harry with emotions Harry didn't need or want; with pity, with regret, with sadness, with condescension. He stood there, preparing to leave, and nodded to himself. He nodded like he'd finally come to an understanding, to a realization that until now had evaded him.

Harry was going to apologize again, but Ron spoke first. "Vanessa's bringing your daughter here this afternoon." Then Ron nodded to Harry and left without another word.

Harry watched the back of the door as he thought of the way Ron said "your daughter." Those words cut at Harry. They lashed the back of his legs and brought him to his knees. And while he worried about the future, about how he'd manage the roles of mother and father, he wondered if he had any friends left, or if he finally cut their strong bonds with his fury.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry stood under his shower spout for at least an hour, the hot water scourging his skin. It had taken him ten minutes to realize he'd gone in the shower wearing all his clothes, and because they stuck to his body, it had taken five minutes to remove them.

Twice he had to keep the water hot by adjusting it with magic. He didn't care that his skin was red raw from the heat. He didn't care that he was in pain or that he was sweating and possibly losing water weight from the sauna he'd created. He stood there under the downpour of scalding water in hopes of washing away the poison he was covered in. But it wouldn't rinse away.

The acid eating at his insides, the words he'd said, the things he'd done, wouldn't wash away with hot water. He couldn't erase what he said to Ron. He couldn't scrub away the memory of Dana's face when he'd frightened her, yelled at her, the night after Hermione's fake death.

It wasn't only the filth on his soul that sickened him. The future had too many uncertainties, too many doubts and responsibilities. How was he supposed to raise a girl alone? How could he teach her about life if he detested it and didn't want to be part of it? How would he explain death? How was he supposed to be a father? What was he supposed to teach her? Those questions churned his stomach.

He was glad Ron wasn't here and therefore couldn't hear him; couldn't hear the panic, couldn't hear the worried and frightened cries that escaped his throat, couldn't see the tears that were washed from his face as the scalding shower water replaced the path of his tears. He was glad Ron couldn't see him like this, a weak, pathetic excuse for a human being, for a man.

Harry shut off the water. He leaned his head and arms against the wall, letting the drip from the spout hit his red back. The room was so thick with steam and self-hatred Harry found it difficult to breathe. The room was silent, but it was loud. His brain clanked mechanically, trying to find the answers to the questions he so desperately needed.

Harry slid the shower door aside and stepped out. He had to tread carefully, as he hadn't picked up the shards of glass from the mirror he'd shattered. He knew he had to clean them up before his daughter returned. He couldn't let her cut herself on the sharp mirror pieces. But for now Harry simply dried himself and jumped over the floor to the safety his bedroom. He wrapped the towel around his hips then looked over his wardrobe. He didn't want to look formal, but he didn't want to look like a total slob, either. He fingered through his closet and found woman's robes. The robes Audrey had worn at his trial.

They were soft. He slid the material over his finger tips, watched them shine in the light, then he brought them to his nose. They smelled like her. Like cinnamon.

Harry yanked them from their hanger, wadded them into a ball, and stormed into the living room, half naked, and tossed them in the fire place. Dobby looked at him questioningly, but Harry said nothing as he stormed back to his room.

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes as he continued his search for the, "No really, I'm handling it. Tell me you're sorry, and I'll rip your tongue out," attire. He decided on an ordinary black t-shirt and blue jeans. They were more comfortable than stupid robes anyhow, but not slob-like in appearance. He tried not to shed any more un-masculine tears as he dressed but couldn't get the smell of Audrey's skin out of his mind.

_She was evil. She was evil. She was evil. _He tried saying it in his mind again and again, pounding the mantra, depending on it to move forward. _She was evil, evil, evil._ Evil like Voldemort, like Bellatrix Lestrange, like Lucius Malfoy who was part of her Black Order. Evil, evil, evil. Pure evil.

He paced around his room, chanting it under his breath, wishing for it to pass through his skin, wanting to absorb it, take it as truth. He wasn't going to be in denial, for crying out loud. That was the first step of loss, denial. Though he'd heard people tell him about denial, he couldn't really remember having it too bad. After all, he saw Sirius killed, Molly Weasley killed, and now Audrey. What was to deny?

_That she loved you_. _Oh how she loved you. That was real. She wasn't trying to bait you into this, she wasn't faking her love, this wasn't like a novel. She really loved you, from start to finish._

Could he deny that? Was it all in her plans to pretend to love him because he was searching so desperately for it? Could she smell him out? Well, she had.

Harry left his room and came into the living room to look out his windows at the London sky. It was cloudy, like most days. There was a bit of condensation on the outer edges of the windows. Perhaps it would rain.

The clock read one in the afternoon. As he looked at the clock on the counter, he saw Dobby peering over the edge, in fear.

Looking at him reminded him of Dana. She'd be coming soon, with Vanessa. Harry stormed back into the guest room, which had been recently cleaned. It would be Dana's room from now on. Harry couldn't live in Audrey's house, not now, not after her lies. But he'd have to go back there to get all of Dana's things. She'd want her dolls and doll houses, her pink tutu, her clothes, tea set, stuffed animals…

Harry took a good look around this room and tried to imagine it pink. The entire flat reeked bachelor pad with it's simplistic designs, modern and plain architecture, dark shiny floors, bar, and huge master bedroom. He had a very hard time trying to imagine a four year old girl running around in a tutu in this place.

Dobby dared himself and came around the corner to look at Harry. "Harry Potter, sir," he said, with a tiny wave.

Harry snapped his head around. "Hi, Dobby," he said. He didn't want his house-elf to hate him, too. "How are you?"

Dobby smiled a little. Harry noticed he was dressed to impress. He had sweat pants on, and over them were polka dot boxer shorts. He wore a novelty t-shirt that said, "I love NY." The "love" was replaced with a big red heart.

"You did some traveling, did you?" Harry asked, pointing at the shirt.

Dobby nodded. "Dobby did, yes."

"You like it there, New York?"

Dobby said it was very much like London. There were a lot of people there. The buildings were bigger, newer, much more square, no double-decker buses.

"Sounds nice," Harry said. He and Dobby stared at each other for a while, saying nothing. Finally Dobby could take it no more and spit out what he was thinking.

"Dobby is sad for Harry Potter," he said.

"Don't be," Harry said, trying to remember that he didn't want everyone hating him. "Harry Potter is sad enough for himself. I don't need more people, or elves, to be sad for me."

"Dobby liked Audrey," he said.

Harry tried keeping his cool. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. She was evil. Evil. "Yeah," he said, taking a few deep breaths. "I liked her too. Listen, Dana's supposed to come by this afternoon. She'll be staying here now. Would it be too much trouble if you went to the house-I'll give you the address-and picked up her stuff? I should be here when she comes."

Dobby agreed. Harry gave the address and told Dobby to take his time. In a pop the elf was gone, and Harry was left alone again.

He decided to burn all of Audrey's robes. He started a fire in the hearth, watched them burn, then went to the closet to find the rest of her clothes. There weren't very many clothes in the closet. Audrey had brought a few things to stay with Harry over the night of his speedy trial. Since he was found guilty, there was little need to bring more to the flat. But there were her night things, a few t-shirts, trousers. Harry cast them into the fire.

He wished he would feel something cathartic as he burned them. He wanted to feel rage, regret, wanted to believe she was evil. _Evil, complete through and through_. He wanted to feel something other than a painful emptiness, a hole where Audrey had been. He wanted to believe what Hermione had said; it would've been easier. Betrayal he could live with, but this…

After the last bit of fabric turned to ash, Harry thought about Audrey's other things.

In his stack of books, in his private library, there was a mysterious black cabinet. No one could get into it but Harry. He'd always told people there were weapons inside. They didn't know what _kind_ of weapons were hidden behind the shiny black cabinet doors.

Inside were weapons for his enemies; his treasures. Photographs. Photos of Audrey, of Dana. Ticket stubs. Leaves from the fall when Harry had first met her. He'd grabbed one from the ground of her house. He remembered it as he went to that cabinet again, intending to burn everything. It was an ordinary leaf; three edges, brown, cracked, some yellow on the tips. When Harry had picked it up, when he'd reached down to grab it, to have something to remember his first visit to Audrey's home, that's when he thought it. The thought he wouldn't let himself think again.

_Something's not right_…

No, something wasn't right. Not long after he met her he developed his new curse. He'd been unable to stop the voices, the visions, the agony of others, the fears, the dreams, the fantasies and thoughts of people surrounding him.

He wondered now, looking inside his black cabinet of life, if that thought, that brief feeling and gut instinct was a precursor of what was to come. That precognition, as people would call it, perhaps that was the start of it all. Not only did he feel something was wrong, he knew it was. But he ignored it. Audrey lit him up. Her smile electrified him, her voice calmed him, and her laugh made him smile. And she loved him just as much as he loved her. Her gentle touch, her loving embrace, her soft eyes that told him everything would be fine… How could he turn down such a wonderful human being and run back into the world he wished he'd left?

Harry set the leaf, wrapped in a bag, back into the cabinet and shut it. Perhaps Dana would want the photos. After all, evil or not, it was her mother. Who was he to take that from her?

Before Dana came in the arms of Vanessa, Harry promised himself not to tell Dana the truth of her real mother until she was older. Harry promised he'd tell her by age ten. Ten was an appropriate time. She would be old enough, mature enough, to be told what had really happened: her real mother was dead, her foster mother who'd taken her real mother's body, had been slain by Hermione.

On second thought…

Maybe he'd tell her the truth when she was older than ten. Or maybe he wouldn't have to tell her. Because he was still famous Harry Potter, and Dana now his famous daughter, perhaps the story would reach Dana when she was younger than ten, from a friend at school, or a parent whispering to another parent. "Poor thing," they would whisper as Dana passed. "Real mother died you know. Her body was host to Leucosia."

Harry hated those parents already, and he hadn't even encountered them. He knew they were out there; he knew Dana would have to carry a load because of who he was and what had happened to him. It was one of the many reasons he didn't want children. Yet here he was, an adoptive father. Irony.

Harry sauntered into the living room then crashed in his sofa.

The door glowed blue. A friend had arrived.

Harry took three cleansing breaths then went to the door and opened it.

Just who he had been expecting. Vanessa was at the door with a cheery smile, her hair pulled back into a pony-tail. Dana was sleeping in her arms, her head on Vanessa's shoulders. She had a pink coat on, and purple corduroy trousers, with pink socks and purple tennis shoes. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying his non-manly tears at the sight of her. He opened the door wide to allow Vanessa entrance.

"She fell asleep in the car," Vanessa whispered. "Where should I put her?"

Vanessa acted like she'd taken Dana out for a day trip. Harry loved her for that.

"Uh, my room. Her room isn't ready yet," he whispered back. She could sleep on his bed until she woke up, then he would move her into her new room. They didn't speak as Harry escorted her to his bedroom; he couldn't think of anything to say. But it seemed like Vanessa understood.

Vanessa lay her on Harry's bed, then tucked her in and kissed her cheeks. She then pulled a stuffed animal, a unicorn, from her purse and secured it in Dana's arms. Harry couldn't help but think, _I would've never thought of that._

Then Vanessa tip-toed out of the room, expecting Harry to follow her. He watched his daughter sleep for a few seconds. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes twitched a little. Harry followed Vanessa out and shut the doors.

"She's such a good kid," Vanessa said as she helped herself to some coffee that Dobby offered her. "Feisty and active, but that's what four year olds are like."

Harry thought it would be rude to simply kick her out of the house, considering that Vanessa had taken care of Dana while he'd been in his coma that Hermione dragged him out of.

"Yeah," he replied, sipping his coffee so he wouldn't have to keep talking.

Vanessa set her coffee down and studied him for a while. Harry looked up at her, hoping she'd realize that his look had meaning. If she said she was sorry, he might have to punch her.

"Dana really liked the horses," she said. "You know, adjusting to being a full-time parent is rough. If you'd like, I could take her a few hours during the week, maybe on certain days, and give you a break. I could teach her how to ride horses. She fell in love with them. I don't have a horse-loving friend. Ron's a coward when it comes to horses, and Hermione said she's not really interested. Dana would love it."

Harry looked into her dark eyes, her smiling eyes. "That sounds fine. Thanks," he said. "It would be good for her to have a woman around."

Ah, now he touched on it. Dana was a girl-not a boy. He had a daughter and not a son. Girls needed mothers. The woman is a complicated creature, and Harry never pretended to understand his female counterpart. They seemed to speak their own language but could understand each other. Dana had to learn to be a woman, and she wouldn't learn from Harry, a man, whose universal solution to his problems was breaking things.

Vanessa, though not cursed with telepathy, seemed to see inside his mind. "She will, Harry. I'll be around whenever you need me to. I love that little girl of yours. And there's Ginny too. You trust her don't you?" she asked, but it was a question that really didn't require an answer.

Harry didn't realize, while he stared into Vanessa's kind eyes, his own were glossing over with unshed tears. Yes, he trusted Ginny. He hadn't spoken to her or seen her in months, hadn't had an actual conversation in about a year, but she was a friend.

Vanessa sighed. "You'll be good with her. After I saw her with you, during that break from the trial, I told everyone how good you were with her. You'll be a great dad. Every new parent wonders if they have what it takes. This is normal."

"But I don't," Harry said and he was embarrassed to hear his voice crack. "I don't have what it takes."

Vanessa stood up and shook her head at him. "If that's what you really believe, and if you keep saying it to yourself, then you won't. Sorry, I don't mean to sound like a confidence coach, but it's the truth. Parenting is hard work, but it's worth it. It'll bring you so much joy. Children are blessings, Harry."

Harry stood up to escort her to the door, which was where she was headed. "Thank you," he said again. "For everything. Really. You're welcome here anytime." Harry thought that last bit might be a little much, but she was helpful in more ways than one.

Vanessa hiked up her purse strap and grabbed the door knob. "Anytime. Owl me if you need me, or floo me. Whatever. Dana's a good kid. She's definitely a keeper but a handful. You'll need help so don't hesitate to ask."

Harry managed a smile for her. "I won't," he said.

Vanessa brushed some hair from Harry's face, then left. He silently thanked her for not bringing up Hermione, though he knew she wanted to. He wished she would've brought up Ron so he could tell her to tell him how sorry he was. But if she wasn't angry with him, perhaps she'd told Ron not to take it personally.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dobby came back with all of Dana's stuff. He helped Harry arrange everything, which was good. Harry had difficulty with what should go where and why, so Dobby did it for him. Harry was trying to lower the closet rack so Dana could reach it when he heard a very loud and confused "Mama!" coming from his bedroom.

Harry froze. Dana called for Audrey, not him.

Well, naturally. Who spent more time with the child, you or Audrey? Don't take it personally.

Harry abandoned his project and went into the next room. Dana was sitting up in the bed, her hair disheveled, the sheets tangled around her, her cheeks pinker than usual. Harry walked toward her and tried smiling. "Hey," he said gently.

Dana didn't reply immediately. "Hi Daddy," she said.

Harry's shoulders sagged. Usually Dana was delighted and beside herself with joy at the sight of him. She would run to him, arms wide open, waiting for him to scoop her up and twirl her in the air. But now she didn't seem to care.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, moving closer to her.

Dana rubbed her eyes with her tiny hands. "Fine," she said. Her young voice seemed to be older now, though Harry had only seen her a few days ago.

"Good," he said. "I'm making up your new room. I brought all of your things from the other house, your first house."

Dana didn't seem to care. She detangled herself from the sheets and blankets, then crawled down the length of the bed toward him. When she came to the edge, she sat down and looked up at him. "Where's mama?" she asked.

The question stung at him. "She's not here," he said, and once more he fought those tears.

Dana didn't fight them. Her eyes turned red and her small sparkling tears rolled down her cheeks and down her neck. Harry walked to her and picked her up, holding her tight in his arms. She was so warm, so small. He knew the question would come up again, but he had some time to construct the answer properly, if that was possible.

She encircled his neck with her small arms and seemed to relax as he held her. It was then that the reality and the weight of all that was and would be, struck him. Dana was his. Only his. His little girl. She would rely on him for everything: care, shelter, food, and most importantly, love and guidance. The first three were easy, and he was confident now that he could do the fourth. He'd never had a problem loving her. He always loved her, from the moment he lay eyes on her as an infant. So delicate, so innocent, so perfect in her own way.

"You're going to live here now," Harry told her. "Okay, kiddo?" he asked.

Dana didn't really reply. She was still wondering, in her childish way, where her mother was. She knew she was gone. But why? Audrey was almost always with Dana, so where had she been for these past few days?

Harry knew she'd ask soon, sooner than he wanted her to ask, but he decided that Dana could ask as many questions as she'd like and about anything. He didn't tell her she could, he just told himself not to get angry and scream at her if she asked a question. He would answer her even if he didn't have the answer.

That night was a silent one. Harry didn't feel much like talking, and Dana wasn't real chatty herself. After pudding (rhubarb pie), Harry gave her a bath. He'd had enough experience and coaching that he felt confident about this. One day soon, however, she'd have to do this alone. After the bath he dried her, put on her pink pajamas, and took her to bed in her new room, formerly the guestroom.

"Wead me a stowry," she told him, handing him "Horton Hears a Who," by Dr. Seuss. Harry sat down on her bed and read. Occasionally he'd check to see if she was still awake, and she usually was. When Harry finally reached the end, however, Dana's eyes were shut, her breathing heavy and steady.

He closed the book and set it on a shelf. Remembering what Vanessa had done, Harry placed Dana's stuffed unicorn into the crook of her arm, then kissed her cheek.

o-o-o-o-o-o  
A week and a half seemed to be the amount of time everyone thought was appropriate for grief.

A week and a half after Harry awakened from his coma, packages were delivered to him, visitors dropped by, and the Ministry poked around in his business.

Even Hedwig got in on the flush of deliveries. Harry was so inundated with mail that he had to stash it away in boxes and sort through it one at a time. Hedwig brought Harry only a few packages, but Harry didn't bother looking at them for at least another week, which was wise of him.

Harry tried not to read _The Daily Prophet_, which was being delivered regularly now that he'd returned. He'd read it a few times, as to keep up with the news, but there were too many editorials, too many columns, and opinions about that poor Harry Potter. He felt that if he read one more article saying, "I feel so sorry for the poor soul," he might set fire to the _Prophet's_ office building. But Hermione was right. Harry's ordeal, in it's entirety, was published. The break from Vincula, the charge into Ithaca, Audrey's true identity, the death of Audrey, Harry's coma… everything was published, everyone seemed to have something to say about it, even some aspiring amateur psycho-babbling shrinks put in their two cents.

Harry wondered how the story had broke but found that he didn't really care. Was it any different? Did he expect it to be any different? He'd always been under the microscope, and he was sure he always would be. As long as he was alive, at least, and maybe even after he was dead, whenever that would be.

He was in the middle of opening an envelope, thinking about Audrey, when a curious owl arrived with a letter, a letter that would in some ways ease the pain of loss, but in other ways cause regrets.

The small brown owl landed on Harry's desk and dropped a formal letter for him, then flew out the open window again. Harry picked it up. On the back was a wax seal. A unicorn foal.

Frowning, Harry opened the envelope to read the following:

_To Mr. Harry Potter,_

_ Following the requests of the late Audrey Wyatt, an agent will be visiting you on November 19 in regards to the future care of Dana Wyatt. If you have any further questions, please contact our office by floo or owl._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Grace Waters_

_ Young Wizard Protective Services_

Harry re-read the letter ten times. If he had questions, contact the office by owl or floo. Yeah he had questions. But he could answer them for himself.

They knew the Audrey he had married wasn't the real Audrey Wyatt. The newspapers had talked about it constantly. They didn't know _how _Leucosia had done it, but they knew the real Audrey Wyatt had died years ago.

And in a second Harry thought of something that hadn't occurred to him before. He'd never technically been married. If he'd never been married, then his signature on Dana's adoption papers was pointless. Only the real mother of Dana, the real Audrey, could sign off and okay Harry's guardianship.

All at once Harry couldn't breathe.

…_in regards to the future care of Dana Wyatt_… Not Dana Potter. No, in regards to Dana _Wyatt_, daughter of Aiden and Audrey Wyatt.

Harry pushed away from his desk and walked out of his room. He could hear Dana talking to her dolls in the living room. She'd pulled out a doll house, the doll's car, and was now taking Barbie and Ken on a vacation in the kitchen sink.

He could take her and live in secret again, then the Young Wizard Protective Services couldn't find him and take Dana away from him. But he knew that was no good. Dana had to go to school, had to attend Hogwarts, had to play Quidditch.

Harry marched into the kitchen, pulled a Guinness from the refrigerator, then marched back to his room. As he popped open the top and drank half of it under a few seconds, Harry realized he was jumping to conclusions. The YWPS couldn't just take his daughter from him. Dana believed Harry to be her father. The YWPS had to think about what was best for Dana and taking her away from her father wasn't in her best interest.

And if they tried, well, then Harry would do something drastic. But he told himself to be patient and cross that bridge when he came to it. For now he'd just worry himself into oblivion.

Yeah, that would work.

Finishing the Guiness, Harry opened another package without looking at the return address. He didn't wonder about the address when the contents fell out of the envelope within the package and into his hand. His Auror Ring. Dana's rubber band kiss. His solid gold wedding ring from Audrey. His glass cross.

Harry dropped the envelope and stared down at the small objects in his hand. The Auror Ring, the one given to him after completing three years of hard, demanding training, looked dull. It had been stuffed in that envelope and then stored in Vincula with the other three objects Harry had worn. He wondered if he still had the title, if the Ministry would hire him back, or if he _wanted_ to be hired again. He hadn't been an Auror for a week when he met Audrey and fell for her. Great Auror he was.

Dana's rubber band was beginning to rot, as rubber tended to do. Harry sealed it in a plastic bag and would keep it forever. No one would take it from him.

The wedding ring meant nothing now. He'd never really married, after all. He pinched it in his fingers and looked on the inside of the ring where a small engraving read: For Audrey, May 2003. Harry swallowed his emotion, not allowing it to pass through his lips in the form of a choked sob. He let the ring drop. It fell, fell, fell to the floor where it spun and finally came to a rest after a few seconds of oscillation.

And the glass cross had the audacity to glimmer and shine in his palm. He rubbed it with his thumb pad, unknowingly frowning at it, wishing to spat at it, crush it in his palms, the tiny shards to break his tough skin and ooze blood. He thought his prayers were answered with Audrey. He had thought that maybe his life wasn't a cosmic joke but would be given purpose through her and through her love. But it was a lie.

Breathing heavy with anger, Harry gripped the cross, still attached to the black nylon cord, and flung it across the room where it hit the wall and crashed and maybe shattered; Harry didn't care.

Audrey was evil, never good. And the YWPS would take Dana away. His family would be erased from his life, and he'd be left to live alone, not even a higher power to comfort him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry spent the next morning in bed, the covers pulled over his head. It had been two and a half weeks since he came back here. Two and a half weeks since he'd spoken to Ron or Hermione, Vanessa or Clarice. He half expected Ashika Narayan to storm in, dump could water on him, and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself and get out of bed. She didn't.

By the time he finally dragged himself out of bed and into the lavatory to wash up, Dobby had entered with a cup of coffee and an announcement that he had a visitor.

Dobby didn't say "you have a friend" but a visitor. Panic flooded his veins as he thought an agent from YWPS would be here, but remembered they weren't coming until the 19th. Curious, Harry dressed quickly then met his visitor in the living room.

Sitting calmly in the sofa and clasping a steaming cup of coffee was Harry's former attorney, Jacob Verit. Parchment of a formal nature sat on the coffee table before the lawyer. Jake didn't notice Harry had come in, and Harry didn't announce it. He stared at Jake, wondering how long it would take for the fool to notice him.

Jake stared out of one of the windows and sipped his coffee, apparently deep in thought.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

Jake jumped a little, spilling coffee on his shirt, then stood up, spilling more coffee on himself.

"Harry," he said nervously, trying to dry the coffee with a serviette rather than his wand. He hadn't changed at all since Harry had last seen him as he was whisked away to Vincula. Jake did seem much more nervous than Harry had ever seen him, and Harry detected Jake had come to him for several reasons, one of them he didn't want to mention but knew he had to.

"Jake," Harry said with a nod. "What do you want?" he repeated, this time more slowly. He looked around for Dana, then saw her in a corner with the pots and pans. She was having the time of her life banging them together, creating music.

"Well," Jake said, still clearly nervous. "First of all, I wanted to say I'm---"

"Don't," Harry commanded, raising his hand screwing his eyes shut. "Don't tell me how sorry you are that I married an evil woman and now she's dead and oh how my heart is breaking." Harry opened his eyes to stare him down but Jake was smiling.

"Actually, I wanted to say sorry for how the trial went. I'm not very good at defense, as you saw. I also wanted to show you this," he said, handing Harry the parchment. "It's a notice of the date of our appeal, which is actually next week if you can believe that."

Harry took the parchment in his hands and scanned the formal document. Yes, Jake was right, it was a notice of Harry's appeal. Even after Jake thought Harry might be guilty, he had still filed for an appeal.

Guilt washed over him once again. He looked up from the parchment into Jake's eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"No apologies necessary," Jake said. "I was angry that you didn't trust me with all your secrets, but I knew it wasn't a reason for you to rot in prison. Of course, we don't need an appeal. The Ministry has cleared you of all charges… again." He took the parchment back and tore it into four pieces then threw it in the fireplace.

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets because it gave him something to do. He didn't know what to say to Jake, if there was anything to say. As it turned out, Jake had more to offer.

"And as compensation for my faults," Jake said, one side of his mouth rising into a smirk. "I thought I'd offer you some advice on how to deal with the YWPS and win your daughter back."

Harry raised his eyebrows and felt his heart flutter with hope. "I'm listening," he said.

Jake sat down again and Harry did the same, sitting in a chair opposite the sofa. "Well, there are rules the YWPS must abide by. You should also know that the Ministry isn't tied to the YWPS, so there can't be any bribing of government officials for child custody. In this case it's bad because the Ministry owes you one, and if the two were connected, you wouldn't have a problem."

"Get to the good news Jake," Harry said.

"Right," Jake said, slapping his hands on his knees. "I'm not sure if you know the details of the case. They usually don't include that in letters, the agents tell you. But I happen to know the details because of connections that I have that you didn't hear me tell you about."

Harry slid forward in his chair and nodded. "What connections?" he asked with a smirk, the first sign of happiness he'd shown in weeks.

"Exactly," Jake said. "You have a number of things going for you. First, Dana believes you to be her real father. Two, you've spent years with her, cared for her, have a residence for her, and are clearly taking good care of her," he said. Dana banged pan lids together like cymbals.

"That's five things, not two," Harry said.

"Whatever. What you don't have going for you is that Audrey's aunt and uncle, Dana's blood relatives, are asking for her. They are married, are blood related, and took care of Audrey when she was young. Dana is their only link to their niece."

Harry swallowed and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. That didn't sound good for him.

"Great," Harry said. "That's just great. Tremendous. Blood relations. Blood relations always, _always_ take better care of their other blood relations instead of someone who's _not_ blood related, that's what I always say. Is that what you always say? That's what I always say. Blood relations are _great_ caregivers. The best." Harry fell back into the sofa and stared at the ceiling and laughed.

He clutched his stomach as he laughed so loud and so hard that tears came to his eyes. It wasn't an evil maniacal laugh of a villain plotting for the end of the world but a laugh of desperation, of helplessness, and of knowing there's nothing left.

He dropped his head down to his chest and continued his deep belly laugh. Dana had stopped banging pots and pans to watch him. Even she sensed the sorrow behind the mirth.

Jake wasn't infected by the sudden and strange cackles. He waited for Harry to regain composure before continuing.

Finally Harry wiped his eyes and his laughter died down to a chuckle, then a snicker, and finally just a sick smile. "So that's it then?" he asked.

"No," Jake said. "Harry, you still have a chance, but you'll have to fight and change your lifestyle. There are a few hoops you'll have to jump through, but you can keep her if you fight hard enough."

Harry dropped his smile and crossed his arms. "Okay," he said nodding. "Okay, what do I have to do?"

"The YWPS will look at a few things to see if you're good for Dana. They want to see someone who's stable, who's situated and well-grounded, someone who's of a sound mind, and someone who is capable of the challenges of raising a child."

Harry tried to mask his despair. He wasn't sure he _was_ stable, well-grounded, of a sound mind, and he knew he wasn't capable of raising a little girl.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked.

Harry's face had gone from pink to green in a fraction of a second and he felt rather faint. "Yeah. Fine," he managed, though he could feel his light, unstable minded head floating away. "Fine."

"Harry, you'll do fine," Jake said slowly. "There are ways you can prove this."

"I'm not talking to a bloody shrink with inkblot tests," Harry said, his eyebrows so high they nearly touched his hairline. "He'll fail me, and that'll be the end of it."

Jake bit his lip. "You don't have to speak to a shrink. You have to get a job. Full time."

Okay, that Harry hadn't expected. How was he supposed to show he was a capable parent if he had to have a job and leave his daughter with strangers? That seemed contradictory. Get a job, leave your daughter with someone else. He could understand leaving her with strangers if he were poor and needed to work to give her what she needed, but Harry was swimming in wealth.

"A job? And where does Dana go when I have this supposed job?" Harry asked.

Jake shrugged. "Full time implies either a thirty or more hour work week, or five days a week for half the day. Dana could go stay with a friend, you could enroll her in pre-school, which wouldn't be a bad idea, and she starts primary school in a year. Having a full time job would prove that you can work in routine, that you're stable and can handle the stress of work, and you're bringing income in, though you don't really need that because you have quite a bit of pocket change. Harry, I don't make the rules; they do. You may think they're stupid, but in order to keep her you have to play their game."

A job. He could get a job. But going to the Ministry right now, begging Arthur Weasley to take him back as an Auror, after all the Ministry had accused him of and done to him, wasn't realistic. Harry wouldn't be able to muster enough sincerity to apply for a position, at least not at this time. But he was trained to be an Auror, and he didn't really have experience doing anything else.

After he graduated from Hogwarts he'd been asked to play Quidditch professionally, but he assumed that offer had expired since it was now seven years later. Anyways, traveling all the time and practicing religiously wouldn't be the best for Dana.

"Uh," Harry said, rubbing his chin. "I could get a job. I don't know where, but I can get one. Then what?"

"After you've gotten the job and held onto it, you go before a family judge and defend your position. Audrey's family will try to get Dana, but Dana's best interest is staying with you. If you get a good, respectable job, you should be fine."

Harry nodded. Perhaps Jake was right, maybe he could hold onto her. Feeling considerably more relieved now than this morning, Harry sighed and fell back into the chair again. "Do I need an attorney?"

Jake shook his head.

"So if I do all this right, they can't take her away from me?" Harry asked.

"No, they can't. They can only take her away if Dana is abused, and that won't happen," he said.

Harry furrowed his brow. "How long has this organization existed?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, a hundred and fifty years maybe," Jake said.

Harry chuffed. "Over a hundred years. A century and a half. Amazing," he said to himself, chuckling. "Best interest of the child… yeah."

Jake didn't respond but folded his hands together and studied Harry. "You should get this job as quickly as possible."

Harry nodded. "I'll see who has openings for Aurors. Maybe Ireland or Canada or something. Ireland would be best, they're closer, same time zone."

"An Auror isn't the safest position one could hold," Jake said warily. "You might want to play it safe for a while, until you've got this in the bag. Being an Auror could bring harm to Dana and the YWPS would play that card."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately. You might want to try a different position."

When Harry asked what other positions there were, he got the feeling that Jake had an idea the entire time. Jake listed many things that Harry knew he was overqualified for, then Jake hesitantly suggested education.

"You mean me, a teacher?" Harry asked, almost laughing.

"There are plenty of positions open for teaching. Parents are looking for tutors for their children and there's an empty position at Hogwarts," Jake said in a rushed manner.

Harry cocked an eyebrow suspiciously then cleared his throat. "Lemme guess," he said, scratching his head, "Defense against the Dark Arts?"

Jake smiled. "You hit it on the head."

"Yeaaah," Harry sighed. Jake couldn't be serious about Harry taking the job at Hogwarts. Bad things always happened to those professors, and Harry had enough bad news on his plate. Taking this job would ensure that Harry would have enough trouble to fill the Great Hall. "That job is cursed. I had seven different professors for that class in my seven years of school. Some horrible things happened to those people."

"But I heard you were a good teacher. I heard you enjoyed teaching defense against the dark arts," Jake said.

"I couldn't teach full---hang on. Where did you hear that?" Harry asked, tilting his head a bit.

Surprisingly, Jake blushed and he immediately looked away from Harry. "Uh," he said, then coughed. "Hermione mentioned it."

Harry leaned forward and folded his hands in his lap. "Hermione told you?" he asked in an accusatory voice.

Jake looked up at Harry, his face scarlet, and nodded. "Yeah. We've been talking."

"Talking?" Harry asked. "Talking? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Jake held up his hands defensively. "Harry calm down. When I heard Hermione was safe, I called on her. I wanted to see her, is that illegal?" Jake asked.

"No," Harry snapped. He was surprised by his hostility toward Jake and decided he was being ridiculous. "No, that's perfectly fine. Just fine. So you two are just friends then?" he asked. He picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip.

"Well," Jake said, growing redder, "not exactly. I mean yes, we're friends, but we're---uh---we're, you know," he cleared his throat, "seeing each other."

Harry's eyebrows did another leap. "Dating. You're dating her." Harry set down the cup of coffee and stared into it. He could see his wavy reflection in the dark coffee.

"Yeah," Jake admitted, then was silent for a few moments. "I know you two are close, or were. She said something about having a falling out? You're still friends with her, though, right? She's a great woman, Harry. I hope this is okay with you," Jake said. "It is, isn't it? Not that I need your approval, of course. You're not her father or her brother, exactly. It's just nice to have blessings from friends. She said that in school you, her, and Ron were inseparable, so I took that to mean that she wants your approval, though she doesn't think she does."

Harry looked at Jake and smiled, then went back to watching Dana. She had stopped playing the pots and pans and was now throwing her Barbie dolls in the air and saying, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" as they went up and spun back down to the floor.

"Who's teaching Defense against the Dark Arts right now? It's the middle of the school year," Harry asked, still watching Dana.

Jake's answer was delayed probably because he was expecting the answer to his own question from Harry, which Harry clumsily avoided. "Dumbledore. He's pulling both jobs as headmaster and professor until he can fill the position."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for you're help. I'll look into it." He stood up to escort Jake to the door. Jake tried making eye contact with Harry, but Harry's gaze was hard to catch. Harry walked to the door and opened it. "Nice seeing you and thanks for the advice. I'll take it."

Harry extended his hand, and Jake took it.

"Harry, I don't want to start something by seeing her; I just really like her," Jake said.

Harry smiled, but it wasn't a normal, make-you-feel-good-and-confident smile. "Hermione and I did have a falling out. And why should you care what I think about you and her as a couple? Marry her for all I care," Harry said coldly. "I hope you two are very happy."

Jake nodded. "Good luck with the job search," he said politely.

"Thanks."

And Jake left.

After Harry closed the door he stared blankly into the kitchen. He wasn't sure what the emotion was that took residency in his gut, but he didn't like it. Hermione had been Harry's most valued friend. Sure, Ron was his _best_ friend, the one who he had the most fun with. Ron used to be reckless and rash like Harry, never thinking before acting. Hermione had been the stern, steady influence on the both of them. Hermione always supported Harry, believed in him, had his safety always in mind: the Firebolt, the Occlumency lessons, the Department of Mysteries. Even if Harry was cross with her, Hermione insisted on his safety. In school, Harry and Hermione were comfortable with each other, as good friends should be. He would seek her out, ask for her advice, consult her about various issues he was having, tell her his fears. She was the stern and steady influence, but also caring, kind, and gentle.

Once, many years ago he thought he wanted more than friendship with her, but thought it through and knew it could never be. He had told Hermione the truth to why he never initiated something more, knowing full well Hermione felt the same way about him. Well, he told her some of it.

Harry was a lot of things, but not ignorant about who he was and the man he was becoming. And it wasn't as if he wondered why he was the way that he was; there was little mystery involved. He'd been deprived of love when he needed it the most and told he was worthless. The dramatic change when he went to Hogwarts was unnerving at first, and helped slow the decay of his character, but didn't put a stop to it. Dumbledore had been right when he told Harry he wasn't whole.

So it was true that Harry didn't want to pursue a relationship with Hermione because he genuinely felt and knew that he wasn't good enough for her, that he didn't deserve her. But there was more to it than that. If he did see her as more than a friend, everything would change. They would no longer be great friends, but something more. Harry knew, though several people his age hadn't figured it out yet, that only three things could happen when you started dating someone: ending in death, ending in a break up, or getting married. Harry didn't like any of the options. If he and Hermione were to break-up, the most likely outcome would be a ruined friendship. If they got married, there would be expectations on him, he'd see her all the time, he'd fear he'd stop loving her, and children… Hermione wanted children. She'd made that clear years ago.

Harry turned to the window and stared out of it as Jake had done minutes ago. If Harry didn't want to date or marry Hermione, if he was still furious with her for interfering and invading his mind and private past, why did he feel… resentful? He couldn't decide if he was resentful toward her _and_ Jake, just her, or just Jake. But he was definitely resentful, he knew that now. And a little jealous. But jealous of who and why should he be?

"BOO!" Dana yelled as she collided with Harry's legs and, because he was immersed in his thoughts and wasn't paying attention, was nearly knocked to the floor.

Harry staggered but regained balance and looked down at her smiling face. He had to smile back at her, even if he didn't want to. Something in her face commanded happiness from him, and he gave it to her.

Dana threw her arms up, a nonverbal request to be picked up, cuddled, and bounced on the balls of her feet. Harry grabbed her under her armpits and raised her in the air to hold her. She wrapped her chubby legs around his chest and wound her arms around his neck, then kissed him.

Harry looked into her deep brown eyes and smiled. "I love you," he told her.

Dana giggled. "I wove you too, Daddy," she said. "Let's play howrsey," she said in stride with her affection.

Harry sighed. Carpet would make this task much easier.

o-o-o-o-o-o

With November nineteenth stalking him like a black panther stalks his prey in the darkest jungle, Harry had to take the only opportunity that was provided to him.

As it turned out, there weren't any positions open for Auror at the British Ministry. Arthur filled Harry's position, as he was obligated to do, after a certain amount of time. Firing another Auror just so Harry could take his job back wouldn't be fair, Arthur explained. Harry felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. Harry reminded Arthur, not so kindly, that his position had been stolen from him because he was found guilty of crimes that he was fighting _against_!

"I'm sorry Harry," Arthur said. Harry detected, though he considered ignoring it, sincerity in the Minister's tone. "When a new position opens or when the Ministry changes policy to allow for more positions, which I would like, I'd be happy to take you on and pay you retroactively."

Harry sighed for the first time that day. The Irish Ministry was also full. He was somewhat relieved to hear that, as his former girlfriend was posted in Ireland, and having to work with her would be awkward.

Harry didn't speak another language, so the only other English speaking Ministry accepting Aurors was the United States. But the hours were strange, due to different time zones, and they wanted their Aurors to live in the country. Harry hated the heat and, though the Ministry there was willing to bend over backwards to take on Harry Potter, Harry declined. He didn't want special favors.

As it turned out, Jacob Verit was right. Education had plenty of openings, but Harry didn't feel comfortable tutoring only a few children. Being left alone with them would be strange, and he wasn't sure, though he'd been cleared of all crimes, that parents would trust him with their children.

So, for now, Harry would do something he'd never foreseen.

It would be temporary. Harry would make sure that was understood. It would only last until the YWPS got off his back and until Audrey's aunt and uncle relented and learned Harry was best for Dana.

Temporary.

Harry dressed Dana in warm clothes as he knew for a fact she'd spend her time outdoors in the rain and cold. He pulled a purple sweater over her head, put long underwear on her legs, pulled pink corduroy pants on her, wrapped a pink parka around her, with white fake fur lining the hood, and finally topped her head off with a pink and purple wool hat that covered her tiny ears.

"Daddy," she said as Harry was wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"What?" he asked. He was impressed with how well she was covered and how it would be impossible for the cold to touch her.

"I have to go potty," she said with a rueful smile, crossing her legs.

Harry's shoulders sagged. "But you just went potty," he said, looking at the pink and purple bundle that would take him five minutes to undo and then redo.

If Harry had been in a better mood he might have laughed, but he was too preoccupied about his job, about Dana's future with him, and about the eventual explanation he'd have to provide her regards her mother's whereabouts.

Harry took her hand and led her to the lavatory, then helped her out of her parka, out of her pants and long underwear. Dana wanted him to stay with her while she did the task, and Harry did as she liked.

Now he and Dana would go to the horse lady's house. Dana didn't really remember too many names, and Vanessa was very hard to say. Horse lady was much easier to pronounce, and Harry knew immediately who she referred to. She would stay with the horse lady while Harry talked to Dumbledore about his potential job.

Because Dana couldn't Apparate and was, for the time being, afraid to fly on brooms, Harry attached a child seat to the back of his Harley. This hurt at first. Attaching a child's seat to a Harley Davidson was nothing short of wicked. The bike was black, shiny, and masculine. The child's seat was white with baby elephants and lambs in diapers painted on it. Harry cringed, but he had no other means of travel out to the country. It would have to do for now.

They arrived mid morning at Vanessa's house, which was just outside of London. Vanessa opened her door wide to allow Harry and Dana to come in.

"Well, hello there!" Vanessa said as she hugged and kissed Dana. "Come in, Harry, don't stand there," she said.

"I really have to go talk to Dumbledore," he said.

Vanessa busied herself in the kitchen then produced a chocolate éclair for Dana, who grinned and giggled and quickly began to eat the treat.

"Coffee, Harry?" Vanessa asked.

"No I have to get going," he said. "Try not to pump her with too much sugar, okay?" he requested. "She'll bounce off the walls and get cranky from the temporary high."

"Not too much sugar, got it," she said, sipping coffee from a novelty cup that had written upon it, "A woman's place is on an Arabian." She set down the mug and crossed her arms as she studied him. "Anything else?"

"No."

Vanessa nodded, checked to see that Dana was out of ear shot, then asked Harry in a whisper, "What if she asks about M-U-M?"

Harry sighed. "She's on a trip right now. I haven't told her the truth yet. I have to think of some easy way to tell her."

Vanessa nodded saying, "Mm hmm," to herself. "When you do tell her, keep in mind that she's smart. Kids understand a lot that we think they won't."

Harry swallowed his sarcasm. "I know," he said coldly.

Vanessa's faced changed from calm to embarrassment and regret. "Oh, Harry I'm sorry, I didn't think---I was thinking about Dana---sorry."

Harry shook his head at her and shut his eyes. "Don't worry about it, I'm just a little stressed about this job thing. If I don't get it, they could take her away."

"Yeah, I know, Jake told us," Vanessa said then grimaced after the fact.

Now Harry crossed his arms. "Us?" he asked, his eyebrows up in their interrogation position. Harry had an idea of who "us" was, but he wanted to make certain that he didn't jump to any unnecessary conclusions.

"Yeah," Vanessa said. "Us. Ron and me. You _do_ know that Jake is dating Hermione, right? Yeah, well Jake was talking to us, Ron, Hermione, and me, about the YWPS and how screwed up they are. The four of us went out on a double date."

Harry stared at her without saying a word.

"You're welcome to come anytime," Vanessa added awkwardly.

Harry mentioned something about having to leave and found himself suddenly in Hogsmeade, the castle in the foggy distance. He marched toward it, the cold having no effect on him, only increasing his frown.

The four of them getting along swimmingly. Isn't that nice. But he didn't care. No, he didn't. Hermione was nosy, Ron was an idiot, Jake was a horrible attorney who couldn't defend an innocent man, and Vanessa, well, she was okay.

His thinking about his two friends and their dates clouded his mind so heavily he bumped into the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office, not remembering the journey to the castle or walking inside it.

"Watch where you're going!" one yelled at him.

"Sorry," Harry said, though he wasn't. Why should he be sorry for ramming into a stone gargoyle? He was the one in pain, not the block of rock. "Let me in."

Dumbledore had taught the gargoyles to recognize Harry so that, back in his school years, Harry could enter and talk to the Headmaster whenever he needed to. Dumbledore had never changed the system.

Grudgingly, the gargoyle allowed Harry passage, and he ran up the revolving stairs to the office door and knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore said. His voice was muffled by the door which acted as a sound buffer, but Harry heard strain in the Headmaster's voice. Harry grasped the knob and pushed it down, opening the door.

Dumbledore hovered over his desk, a quill in hand, a red ink flask in the desk corner, and a stack of papers under the other hand. Harry walked inside, watching the portraits of the past Headmasters stare at him in awe. Harry stopped before Dumbledore's desk and waited for the old wizard to lift his eyes.

"Busy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's quill paused. The scratching was silenced. Slowly, very slowly, Dumbledore's blue eyes rose from the parchment he had been studying and came to rest on Harry's. Before saying a word Dumbledore got to his feet and stared.

It seemed that old age had finally caught its quarry. Dumbledore looked much older now than Harry had seen him, even six months ago. His face seemed to be draped with cobwebs, there were so many tiny lines. His blue eyes, once crystal clear, were clouded and worn. Harry could see Dumbledore's withered hands, thin and knobbed in the joints, shaking with excitement at the sight of his young pupil. His lips quivered as they drew up into a smile, and his voice cracked under the emotion that choked him.

"Harry," he said quietly, just above a whisper.

Harry's thoughts regarding Dumbledore had been mixed. He'd had conflicted feelings about Albus Dumbledore for years, most were positive. Dumbledore was, as Marc Simon might say, a figure head, a leader, and a role model. Yet when Harry learned that Vanessa's mother wanted to adopt Harry and raise him as her own, Harry harbored resentment toward Dumbledore. Now that he was faced with his greatest challenge, raising a daughter alone, Harry's bitterness grew more acidic. Dumbledore was the reason Harry didn't know how to be a good parent, for Harry never had one. Dumbledore had made it impossible for Harry to have a good upbringing.

But as Harry gazed upon the aged and weathered face of his previous Headmaster, Harry couldn't muster anger. He was amazed that an old man could calm him so much, for he'd been in a terrible temper of late. Yet Dumbledore seemed to tame him. Harry wasn't sure if it was Dumbledore's haggard appearance or the reaction he had to seeing Harry, which lured him out of his hostility.

"If you're busy I can come back in a while," Harry said.

Dumbledore shook his head and his eyes read an urgency Harry couldn't ignore.

"Oh no," he replied. "No, no. I'm not busy at all. Please sit down," he said, pointing his knobby hand to a chair. Dumbledore fell softly into his own chair and stared at Harry with watery eyes and admiration.

Harry sat down and studied the old wizard's face.

"You're looking well," Dumbledore said softly. Harry wondered if he was too tired to speak loud and clear. He looked ancient, much older than 160.

Harry smiled. "You're not."

Dumbledore chuckled then coughed. "Well," he said, patting his chest with his fist, "I'm not twenty-four. Old age is unavoidable for some."

Harry grabbed at his robes nervously. "For some," Harry agreed.

"I'm very glad," Dumbledore began, "that everyone knows the truth now. The truth about you, about Leucosia. I have been following the story since it began, as you can understand. I'm glad it's over. But I admit that I've been wondering about you and how well you're coping."

Harry took a deep breath and wished for a cigarette. "I'll deal with it. Betrayal, death, loss, it's nothing new," Harry said. "Old news really."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his white beard. "I'm very sorry, Harry."  
Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled under his breath. "Everyone's always sorry. That's the customary response to tragedy, even though they had nothing do with it. But I didn't come here for sympathy."

Dumbledore sat forward. "I know."

Harry crossed his arms and frowned. "The institution known as the YWPS, who incidentally forgot about me or chose to ignore me when I needed their services, has found me unfit to be Dana's father. So I come here seeking employment. Supposedly if I can hold a good job it proves I'm not off my rocker, and I have a good chance of keeping her. I'd have to have a schedule that would enable me to see her in the afternoons. I've enrolled her in preschool and ballet classes that will keep her busy in the morning, but I have to see her in the afternoon. A lot of the professors live here, I'm not sure why, but that wouldn't work for me. I know you have an opening I'm qualified for, and I…" Harry swallowed and shut his eyes. "I need it."

When Harry opened his eyes he saw Dumbledore's face glowing with a mixture of pride and gratitude.

"I need it temporarily until I prove I can take care of her and until a better job comes along. I won't teach here forever, only temporarily. Maybe long enough to break this curse the job holds, prove it's just a fluke. And I'm filthy stinking rich so you don't have to pay me a great deal." Harry only waited for a second before---

"It's yours. When can you start?" came from Dumbledore's dry mouth.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dana was sleeping on Vanessa's sofa when Harry came to retrieve her. She didn't hear Vanessa let Harry in, nor did she stir when Harry was given coffee and led to another room where he could talk to Vanessa.

"So?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.

"No surprises, I got the job," he said.

Vanessa smirked. "You sound thrilled."

"I'm that transparent, huh?" he said dryly.

"Having a job equals keeping Dana. You _should_ be thrilled."

Harry shrugged. "Honestly," he said, staring down into his murky reflection, "it feels like a giant step backwards. I killed Voldemort, graduated, went through Auror Training, graduated, got married… This wasn't supposed to happen," he said.

Vanessa sighed. "You'll be okay, Harry."

"I'm glad you think so," he said with a smirk.

"Did you ever think about talking directly to her relatives?" Vanessa asked. Harry thought for a second. No, but that would be a great idea. He kicked himself for not thinking of it first.

Vanessa dramatically changed subjects and signaled the change by clearing her throat. "Are you ever going to speak to Hermione again?" she asked.

Harry had been wondering the same thing for the past two weeks. Hermione cemented Harry's first decision to leave Ithaca. She'd made it permanent. Audrey's death made many things certain, the first of them being that Harry would never see her again. She couldn't rule the wizard race with him, couldn't keep her princess Dana with her, couldn't have Harry by her side.

But Hermione had seen things Harry didn't want her or anyone else to see. She saw his past. Those memories belonged to him, not her. Hermione venturing into them caused him to relive it. He hoped, after she'd seen what he was forced to live through, that Hermione would understand why Harry wanted to die. It was his choice, not hers. He had been angry, furious, irate that she'd meddled where she shouldn't have meddled.

But again, as he watched Dana, as she smiled at him, when he heard her laugh, when she told him that she loved him, Harry was glad he'd lived.

Harry moistened his lips and sighed. "One day," he told her. One day soon, perhaps. Maybe not so soon. It was too hard to call.

Vanessa smiled. "She loves you, Harry. She only wants you to be happy; you know that, don't you?"

Yes, he knew. Even though he couldn't read her thoughts while she'd been running through his mind, he could feel her emotions. He knew. Hermione was real. She was genuine.

Vanessa seemed to sense what he felt and thought, so she didn't repeat her question. "I think this position will be good for you. Surrounded by teenagers all day… a lesson in patience if I've ever heard of one. And you'll need plenty of patience for that little firecracker you've got. While you were gone, I took her for a short ride, and she loved it. Then we played in the barn with the new puppies. She wants to take one home, but I said you probably wouldn't want a puppy, so be prepared for sweetness and tons of begging. We had a big lunch, and she conked out just before you got back. Horses, puppies, cold weather, and cream soup sure can knock out a four year old."

Harry laughed. "Yeah I guess. Thanks for watching her," he said. "You've been a huge help. Now I have to take the little monster back."

"Yes you do," she said with a grin. "All to yourself. So when do you start teaching, Professor?" she asked with a wink.

"Next Monday. Apparently my first class is second years. Twelve year olds are…"

"Dragons, yeah I remember being twelve. My two younger brothers go there, you know. Promise me you'll give them hard assignments so they can pay me for research."

Harry laughed again. "I'll be sure to do that. You can help me decide essay questions specifically designed for your knowledge."  
"Oh, that's a good idea!" Vanessa said, punching his shoulder. "They owe me big for what I've done for them. I'm really going to like this arrangement."

Harry smiled widely at Vanessa. "I'm sure you will."

o-o-o-o-o

Lydia and Michael Baxter were nothing like Petunia and Vernon Dursley. While Vernon was loud, Michael was seldom heard to raise his voice, a trait Audrey had picked up. While Petunia let her husband control the house hold and never interfered on Harry's behalf, Lydia, Audrey's father's sister, was clearly the head of the family and seemed constantly worried about Dana's well being.

Lydia reminded Harry of Audrey. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle, her smile was warm, her voice was soothing. She was nothing like Petunia and her husband was nothing like Vernon. Maybe this _would_ go well.

Michael welcomed Harry but seemed ashamed of himself at the same time. Here was the man they said couldn't raise Dana. He was fighting for her. The man they imagined to be caring for Dana was a hot-tempered, threatening, ogre of a human being, not the handsome man who stood before them with Dana wrapped around one of his legs.

Michael was a very modest man. His hair was white, his eyes were grey, and his smile was, like his wife's, welcoming and very warm. Just by looking at them Harry knew this was a happy couple.

Dana was happy to see them but clung to Harry. He was relieved.

It took all afternoon. Everyone was civil and kind to one another as a plan was arranged. Harry told them he was glad they wanted to be part of Dana's life and welcomed them into it, just as long as they knew Harry would have primary custody. He's the dad, after all, and it wouldn't be healthy for Dana to be taken from him.

They agreed.

Two weekends a month Lydia and Michael could take Dana. And every once in a while, when Dana didn't have preschool classes or ballet, Lydia and Michael would take care of her, either at their home or Harry's flat in London.

The agent for YWPS was called off.

It almost seemed as if Harry didn't _need_ the job from Dumbledore, but Lydia kept saying how wonderful for Harry to be a professor, being responsible for all those children and their education. It was better that he proved to them that he was capable of holding down a job, even though he shouldn't have to prove _anything_ to them. Teaching would also relieve Dumbledore, who appeared to need all the aid he could summon.

Harry was picking up Dana's toys and putting them back in her trunk as he thought about Dumbledore and how ancient he looked. Most of Harry's memories of Dumbledore were of a sprightly man, who was surprisingly strong physically, magically, and intellectually.

"Daddy?" Dana asked as she toddled into her room wearing her pink pajamas.

Harry put a Ken doll into the trunk and looked at her. "Yeah?" he asked.

"When's mummy coming back?" she asked. She picked her stuffed unicorn off the ground and held it close to her, smoothing out the mane and tail with her fingers.

Harry's mouth went dry. _She went on a trip,_ he wanted to remind her. Yes, a trip. She'll never come back, you won't see her, she won't talk to you in the fire or by telephone. She's dead, Dana. Dead and gone. That means you'll live life without her, without her love. All the other boys and girls will have a mother, but you won't. That's what death is.

Harry sat down on Dana's bed and patted the place beside him. Dana crawled up and, instead of sitting next to him, chose to sit in his lap. She didn't know what he was going to tell her, and for that matter, _Harry_ didn't know what to tell her. He wouldn't explain it the way it had been explained to him, that was certain.

Harry took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for as long as he could stand it, then released it. "She's not coming back," he told her.

Dana stopped stroking her unicorn to look up at him. Her mouth was opened slightly, and her eyes glossed over with soon to be shed tears. "Why?" she asked.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn't fair to be telling her this. She was too young to understand. Harry remembered how long it took for him to grasp the idea of death, but it took Sirius's death for him to really understand it.

"She's not coming back because she's dead," Harry said. "Have you ever heard of that before?" Harry asked her, knowing that she wouldn't.

Dana shook her head. Harry ran his hand through her soft hair and continued.

"Well," he said quietly, "when someone dies…" He paused. "When someone dies it means that they're not here anymore. It means we can't see them."

Dana's eyes took on more shine but she didn't cry yet. "Why can't I see mummy?" she asked and Harry heard her small voice quaver.

"Because she died," Harry said, but Dana still didn't understand. "Death---it's like being asleep forever. It's going to sleep but never waking up."

"But I can see you when you're sleeping, why can't I see mummy?" she said hopefully.

Harry regretted the analogy. "When I'm asleep I'm still alive. My heart beats and… well---here," he said, taking her hand and putting it to her chest. "You feel that?"

"Yes," she said with the nod of her head.

"When it beats like that it means you're alive. But mum's heart doesn't beat at all anymore. People who're dead no longer have that. You have to have a beating heart to live."

This only brought more questions. "Why did it stop?" she asked.

Harry wanted to get back to the topic of discussion, not biology. "Maybe I should---Dana, everyone who lives, everyone who's heart beats, will die. Death is part of life. One day my heart will stop, permanently, and I'll die too. I won't be here, and you won't be able to see me, like you can't see mum now. That's just the way it is, Dana. Everyone dies."

Now a tear rolled down Dana's soft pink cheek and another followed it. "You're going on a trip too?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not now," he said urgently. "Not soon. I'm going to be with you until you're a grown up, maybe even longer. I only meant that everyone dies. Everyone's heart stops at some time. People just die," Harry said, looking to her to see if she understood.

Dana screwed up her face like she was concentrating. The next question she asked Harry didn't know how to answer. He thought he had an idea, but he wasn't sure.

"If mummy's not here, den where is she?" she asked.

Leucosia said that the real Audrey was in Ithaca, that her soul inhabited the environment. But Harry assumed that, without Leucosia, Ithaca was no more. Audrey Wyatt's soul must have gone somewhere.

"When good people die they go on. They go to someplace wonderful, where they'll be happy forever, where they're surrounded by people who love them," he said, watching her face carefully. "Your mum went to a place where we can't see her, where we can't hear her, but where she's happy."

Dana wept silently, her tears rolled down without the thunder of sobs. She looked straight into Harry's eyes, searching for the answers she thought he had. Mums and Dads seemed to know everything, so she was expecting him to know about this, about death.

"Can she see us?" Dana asked.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "She's watching you all the time, and I'm sure she's proud of you," he said and was startled and surprised when his vision blurred. "She's always watching you from that Place, Dana," he said. "In a way she's always with you. She's---she's the wind in your face," he whispered, then wiped his eyes before he could cry.

Children understand more than we think they do. They have a way of simplifying what we find complex, a way of seeing what we refuse to believe, a way of brightening darkness that obscures our "superior" and mature minds with shadows of hopelessness.

This child took her father's hand in her tiny ones and made a complicated face by shaping her lips in a weird fashion. "If we all go to dis place," she began in a whisper, bending Harry's fingers, "den dat means we'll see mummy again," she said. She looked up at him with bright shiny eyes and tried smiling. "Right? We'll see mummy again?"

Harry's lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears. Though she was only four she knew. She knew without having seen. She believed without proof, without argument, without _feeling_ that place beyond that Harry had only been allowed to glimpse. Somehow she knew it was there, and it wasn't just because Harry had told her.

Harry nodded now, and he didn't bother to wipe his face to rid himself of the hot tears. "Yes," he said with a sigh. "We will see her again. We'll see them all again."

Dana smiled and reached up with her hand and pulled Harry's hair so he would bend his neck. Then she sat up stretched her neck and planted her lips on his cheek for a soft kiss. Then she whispered, "Don't go to dat place for a long time, okay Daddy?"

Harry struggled but managed a teary smile for her. He nodded and held her in his arms, bringing her cheek to his warm chest. He kissed the top of her head and told her, "I'll stay with you as long as I can."

He could feel her smile. If only she could really know how much he loved her. Perhaps one day she would. Maybe she'd learn that she was the source of his power, the reason he lived, his inspiration to smile and become a better man. Maybe she'd understand in the years to come. But even if she didn't, Harry knew. _He_ knew she was everything to him. Dana was the light in the darkness, the flame in the snow, the peace in chaos.

They were right, all of them. _This_ was a reason to live.

o-o-o-o-o

"Coat?" Harry asked.

"Check," Dana said.

"Mittens?"

"Check," Dana giggled.

"Lunch pail?"

"Check."

"Helmet?" Harry asked as he pushed a helmet on Dana's head and adjusted the chin strap for her, then clicked it together.

"Check," she said with two mitten thumbs up.

"And scarf," he said, covering her face and neck with the pink and purple scarf.

With a muffled voice Dana said, "Check."

"Good," Harry said, wrapping a scarf around his own neck and putting on a helmet for himself. He'd never worn a helmet previously, but Dana pointed out that if she had to wear one, then he should wear one too.

Harry went out the very same day and bought the best helmet money could buy.

Dana's preschool was only a few kilometers from their home, but Dana liked the motorbike. Over the weekend she and Harry repainted the child's seat so it matched the Harley. It was now a shiny black with only one baby elephant on it. But this elephant wore leather diapers and had a magic wand in its trunk rather than a baby rattle. This was Dana's suggestion.

"Ready?" Harry asked her as he mounted the motorbike and revved the loud, throaty engine.

"Ready!" Dana yelled cheerfully.

"Okay," Harry said and he drove, slowly, out of his parking space and up the underground parking lot and onto the busy street of London. Harry eased his way out of the parking garage and checked left and right. After several red double-decker busses passed, which Dana cheered for, Harry was able to drive across the left lane and into the right to make his way to Dana's school.

Harry was worried that, because she was starting later than all the other children, Dana would be left behind and wouldn't be able to catch up with the curriculum.

He was wrong.

Pre-school, as it turned out, really wasn't _school_. Harry held Dana's hand as he led her to the room where at least twenty wild four year olds were running around and playing like monkeys in a zoo.

"Daddy, look!" Dana exclaimed, pulling him further into the room and pointing at the colored blocks, all the dolls, toy trucks, stuffed animals, and big balls that rolled all around as other four year olds kicked and laughed. All the children were laughing and screaming with delight as they played and rolled on the carpeted floor.

Harry was more nervous than Dana, who was now trying to wriggle free from Harry's grip and go play with three other girls who were in a huge play house with plastic flowers for a garden.

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said, grabbing her slippery hand with both of his. "Let's meet your teacher first," Harry said as he looked around at all the adults…

Harry hadn't noticed when they first came in, but the room was filled with women---mothers. What was stranger was the fact that all of them had their curious eyes locked on Harry. Feeling daunted but determined, Harry walked Dana through the crowd of children and mothers and searched for the teacher, who actually found them.

"Mr. Potter?" an older black woman asked. She was tall, wore a casual green dress, had her brown hair pulled back in a bun, and wore a pleasant smile as she extended her hand. "I'm Mrs. Wagner; we talked on the phone."

"Oh, right," Harry said as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Dana," Dana said, reaching out her hand for Mrs. Wagner.

Mrs. Wagner beamed and kneeled down to be level with Dana. "Why hello there, Dana."

"Hi," Dana said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "My dad's a wizard!" Dana declared proudly. "He chases all duh bad monsters out of my closet at night."

Harry blushed but Mrs. Wagner didn't find anything Dana said to be unusual. "Is that so?" Mrs. Wagner asked.

"Yes," Dana said and continued. "He's says I'm a wizard too and dat I can chase duh monsters away wiff my magical powewrs!" Then she whispered, "But it's a secwret. Youw're not supposed tah tell."

Mrs. Wagner looked up at Harry and winked then nodded to Dana. "Okay, it's our secret." Mrs. Wagner stood to talk to Harry but at that moment Dana turned around and said, "I like her, Daddy. She's nice."

Harry laughed as he looked to Mrs. Wagner.

"Why don't you go play with the other children, Dana?" Mrs. Wagner suggested, and Dana was keen on the idea. She pulled against Harry's hand to do just that.

"Wait," Harry said, keeping her back, then bent down to his knee. "I'll be back to pick you up this afternoon, okay?" he asked.

Dana nodded but was much more interested in playing with the girls in the playhouse.

"Give me a kiss," Harry said. Dana kissed him swiftly on the cheek and started pulling again, working hard to wiggle out of Harry's grip. "Dana, just calm down a second."

She gave him a big grin, then gave him her cheek for him to kiss.

"I love you," Harry told her.

"Love you too," she said. Harry let go of her and she ran to the playhouse without looking back at him.

"She'll be glad to see you when you come back," Mrs. Wagner assured him. "Children are thrilled when they see other children their age. Don't be upset by her greater interest in them instead of you."

Harry turned to her and smiled. "Yeah I know," he said with a sigh. Dana had just introduced herself to a couple of girls and was now playing house.

"You said her mother's dead?" Mrs. Wagner asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

Harry gave her a benign smile. "It's all right. We're doing okay."

Mrs. Wagner smiled at him, then looked around at the other parents in the room. "Well, be careful Mr. Potter, there are a few single mothers in here who have their eyes on you."

"Yeah I noticed," he said as his cheeks flushed. "I'll be wary of them, thanks." Harry checked behind him and saw a few women suddenly look away from him. "I have to get going, so I'll see you this afternoon," Harry said, extending his hand again. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you and the little wizard Dana. She seems like a great girl," she replied.

"She is." Harry tried to catch Dana's attention as he left the room, but she was too busy playing with dolls in the playhouse with her two new friends, so Harry left. He watched the building as he walked away, hoping it was safe. When no one was looking, Harry drew out his new wand and placed a protection charm on the building where Dana played. Just to be safe.

Then he drove back to his flat where he would prepare for _his_ first day of school. Over the weekend he'd planned out the next few weeks of his classes, with the help of Dumbledore of course. He had a briefcase, his notes, quills, and his queasy stomach. The books would be provided.

Harry's first class was at nine, but he would be there early to prepare his office the best he could. Traveling by floo powder was the easiest way to get there, since he could only Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk through the cold to get to the castle. The Floo was a much warmer option.

Harry examined himself in the mirror one more time before leaving. He always thought he looked silly in the traditional attire of wizards his age and he wasn't going to feel stupid standing in front of children. He wore what he wanted: regular trousers, a white long-sleeve button up shirt and his leather trench coat, which he hadn't adorned for months. He didn't know why but that coat made him feel powerful, not that he needed the coat to be powerful, mind you.

Lastly Harry slipped on his Auror ring, which he'd earned even if he wasn't an official Auror at the moment. Taking deep cleansing breaths, Harry grabbed his briefcase, a handful of floo powder, and stepped inside his fireplace.

"Hogwarts," he declared.

In a whirl of fire and bright blinding colors, Harry arrived at his first home.

He stumbled out of the fireplace coughing and found himself in the teacher's lounge room. The room was nearly empty save for one, a man Harry's age, who wore a surprised smile.

"Harry?" Neville Longbottom said as he walked from the far side of the room to make sure he was seeing correctly.

"Neville," Harry said. Neville looked nothing like he did in school. His round face, though still a distinct oval shape, was thinner, more chiseled. His brown eyes possessed a wisdom instead of an insecurity. As he walked Harry noticed that Neville stepped with confidence and didn't knock any thing over such as a chair or even a table. He was no longer chubby but well trimmed, not so unlike Harry.

"So the rumor is true," Neville said with a deep smile. "Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a half smile. "Only temporarily and to help Dumbledore." Harry dusted himself of the few ashes that had collected to his coat on the trip over. "So how's Herbology going?"

"Great," Neville answered. "You want some coffee or tea or something?" he asked.

Harry looked up at Neville again and shook his head. "I don't need it, thanks."

"Afraid you'll puke it up?" Neville asked with a devious grin as he took a sip of his tea.

"Something like that, yeah," Harry answered truthfully. "Are they really that bad?"

Neville shrugged. "Some are horrible, some are wonderful, and most are in between. I'm sure you know which house to be careful of. Gryffindors are great, naturally, Ravenclaw is the brightest, and Hufflepuff, well, they work hard. But enough about that, how are you?" he asked.

Harry started toward the door, expecting Neville to accompany him to his classroom and office.

"Well," Harry started, "I'm all right, considering my situation. I just dropped off my daughter at her first day of preschool, and she's not even missing me."

Neville sniggered. "You should bring her by some time so I can meet her."

"Sure," Harry said. He had to admit it to himself, it was nice having Neville here. He and Neville had an some eerie similarities that made Harry comfortable with him. Though Harry got the short end of the stick most of the time, Neville could still, on some level, relate to Harry. They were in the same boat, paddling up the same river, Neville just had a _slightly_ easier time at it than Harry.

"You know," Neville said as they turned down a different corridor, "I'm sorry I didn't contact you over the past year. I feel horrible about it."

"Why? I didn't write you at all. I was too busy falling in love with evil."

Neville looked at Harry for a clue to either laugh or frown.

Harry's face was plain.

"Yeah, it's not really a joke, which is the saddest part about it. But it's not your fault. I was busy, you were busy, we moved on with our lives. So," Harry said as he saw his classroom up ahead and his stomach churned with nervousness, "what about you? I mean, everyone knows what's happening to me, what about you? What's new?"

Neville cleared his throat. "A lot really. I've written a book."

Harry's eyebrows jumped up. "Really?"

Neville laughed. "It's nothing exciting. It's about Herbology. It's a text book. I went on sabbatical last year to do the research for it, actually. I spent three months in Kenya studying different species and then spent a lot of time in Brazil. You look surprised," he commented.

"I never figured you for the literary type," Harry admitted. "Will you be using this book in your lessons?"

"N.E.W.T. level, yes," he said with a twinge of red on his cheeks.

Harry grinned. "Oh, N.E.W.T. level! That's amazing. When does this book hit the stores?"

"Hermione says it should be ready in a few months," he replied. He kept walking toward the classroom but Harry stopped for a moment before walking again. "Problem?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. I forgot Hermione was in that business."

"I'm lucky she is. She grabbed it from the reject pile," Neville said as he walked into Harry's classroom. "Well," he said, looking around, "here it is. It's nicer than the greenhouses."

A wave of memories flooded Harry's mind as he looked around the large, open, and brightly lit room. His ears were filled with laughter, screams of terror, and strangely enough, the voice of Dolores Umbridge. Harry frowned.

Harry walked up the spiraled steps to his new office, which was nearly empty except for an old desk in the center.

"You've got to admit it's a _little_ exciting," Neville said from the doorway. Harry smiled to himself, his back to Neville. "I just hope you don't have a dark wizard hiding in your head, and be careful in the forest, I don't want you to be stampeded by raging Centaurs."

Harry turned around and laughed. "No, I'm sure something worse will happen to me."

"I'm looking forward to more positive thinking, Harry," Neville said.

"I'm always thinking positively," Harry mumbled as he walked around the desk, one finger sliding along the edge. "I think I'm going to try to settle in before the monsters take their seats."

"A wise idea," Neville said and nodded to Harry. "We'll catch up over lunch. You get to sit at the grown-up table, you know." Neville grinned when Harry snapped his head up. "It's a little unnerving at first, but it's amazing what you can see from up there. Watching the students is extremely entertaining, let me tell you."

"Something to look forward to," Harry said then sat down in his chair behind his desk. "I'll see you at lunch then," Harry said with a nervous smile.

"You'll do fine. After dragons, Death Eaters, and Voldemort, teenagers are easy," Neville said, then waved goodbye and left without another word.

Harry pulled his briefcase to the desk and opened it up. It was ironic, what Neville had just said. Harry brought the figurine of the Hungarian Horntail and placed it on the corner of his desk. It stood and looked around, then back to Harry, who smiled.

o-o-o-o-o

At nine o'clock they entered. Harry peered through a crack in his office door and watched them pour into his classroom, talking animatedly. They all appeared confident, cocky, and unconcerned about the real world and the dangers it held. Harry watched until the last student came through the door and sat down.

Because Dumbledore had to balance being Headmaster and professor, he'd combined two houses into one class to save time, which made the class much larger. There had to be forty students stuffed in the room, all talking, some yelling, many laughing.

Harry was _never_ that small or obnoxious.

When Harry could no longer hide in his office without being suspicious, he opened the door wide, put on his firm, mess-with-me-and-I'll-beat-you-to-a-pulp face, and descended the stairs, wand in his right hand, a folder containing his notes in the left.

Silence fell. The only sound heard was Harry's foot fall on the stone steps.

When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs he looked at his students. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, some mouths open, some mouths shut. A few students clenched their desks or chairs, perhaps out of fear. Harry was glad he'd had a cigarette a few moments ago, otherwise he'd been inundated with their voices and visions. Now that he had control he could sense their awe and apprehension.

Harry stood behind a podium and opened his folder to call roll. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in this class. Quite a few names. He'd only call last names, it would save time.

"Adams?" he began.

Adams was a small girl who sat in the back. Her hair was blonde and in braids, her face was thin, her eyes were wide but not in awe.

"Here," she said, raising her hand and blushing furiously. She already had her book open to the correct page and had a quill ready. This would be the Hermione of the group.

Harry looked down to his roll sheet and marked Adams, Samantha present and moved on.

"Aaron?" he called.

"Here!" Aaron, Devon hollered from the middle of the class. Devon was a heavy boy with a deep and loud voice, mousy brown hair, and black eyes.

"I'm right here you don't have to yell. I'm not deaf," Harry said with a smirk, hoping to break the tension. No one laughed but everyone looked around at one another suspiciously. Harry sighed and continued roll.

Once Harry had finished he made a mental note that he had a fan club. There was a giggly group of girls in the front, all with curly hair, in bows, who seemed to hang on to every word Harry said and then giggled amongst themselves. In the next class he had with them, he'd separate them, for his sanity.

"Books away," Harry said as he pushed the podium out of the way to clear for a space. There was a short bout of commotion as everyone made as much noise as possible to put their books in their bags. When the last students, his fan club, had bagged their books, Harry told all the students to stand up and back away from their desks.

This, apparently, was reason enough for all of them to talk amongst themselves. Harry rolled his eyes but watched as they, slowly, did as he asked.

"Come closer to the front, and please don't dawdle. Make time," Harry said. "That means hurry."

The students scurried to the front, no one dared get too close to Harry, and fell silent again. With one swift wave of his wand, saying nothing, all the desks and chairs glided swiftly to the sides of the room, stacking on top of one another to conserve space.

"That's more like it. Now, how many of you know the basic defensive spell?" Harry asked.

A few students looked around at each other, none of them making eye contact with Harry, then finally Samantha Adams of Gryffindor, rose her hand tentatively.

Harry pointed to her.

"Uh," she said quietly, blushing, "it's _Expelliarmus_, I think. Maybe it's not. I think it is. Is-is it?" she asked.

Harry smiled and nodded then awarded Gryffindor twenty points. No, he wasn't biased _at all_. Then he told the class that the charm is a life saving defensive spell that they should all know well.

"Split into pairs, there's an even number of you so everyone should have a partner. You don't have to talk about the Quidditch match to do this," Harry said as he heard one boy discussing the coming match as he went searching for a partner. "Just find a partner. It's very simple."

Harry expected the students to obey him like the D.A. had done in his fifth year. But they didn't. These were twelve year olds who had little motivation to protect themselves against the dark forces. Harry had only been motivated because a prophecy-fulfilling maniac was determined to kill him, and an entire school thought he was setting loose a Muggle-killing basilisk. He tried reminding himself that he had been different than these students, when they took five minutes to find partners.

Finally, after Harry encouraged them to move quickly, everyone had a partner and he demonstrated the spell. Then he told them to practice.

And, like in the D.A. meetings, there was chaos. Harry laughed as a few people were knocked down, only a handful of wands were tossed in the air, and half of the students pronounced the spell incorrectly.

Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all.

o-o-o-o-o

After the second year class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuff, sixth years rolled in. They were much more obnoxious than the twelve year olds, and Harry was surprised. He assumed the sixth years would be better behaved, but they were more confrontational, harder to impress and frighten, and rude. Of course this class had Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The Slytherins had probably been told by their head of house who was teaching Defense against the Dark Arts. No doubt he'd given them motivation to give Harry a hard time.

But he dealt with them well enough. He demonstrated the Patronus charm and had his stag attack a smart mouthed Slytherin. Needless to say, the young man was more polite after that.

Even though Slytherins were present, Harry still had an enjoyable time teaching them. He assigned them reading and asked for a summary of the reading to be handed in next class, then dismissed them.

Harry watched the last of them go then gathered his notes, went into his office, shut the door behind him, and slid to the floor in a heap.

Reaching his hand toward his desk, a pack of specialty cigarettes flew into his hand. He pulled one out, put it between his lips, lit it with the snap of his finger, and took a long drag. He'd have to find a better solution to his problem, but for now this would have to do.

Harry blew smoke rings from his mouth and watched them dissipate into the air of his office. There was something calming about smoking. It did more than relax his brain, ease the pain, and make it easier to concentrate. It was therapeutic. It calmed his nerves, slowed things down to a tolerable level. It was peaceful.

There was a loud knock on Harry's office door.

His heart sank. He had a feeling he knew who it was.

Harry sat up, cocked his head from side to side, and opened the door.

"Potter," said Snape in all his oily glory. Snape was one of those people who never seemed to change. His hair was still greasy, his nose was still hooked and long, his skin still sallow, teeth still gray, and surprise, his lip was curled in disdain.

Harry was tempted to say, "Snivelus," but since he didn't coin the term, he didn't feel secure saying it.

"Snape," Harry replied, blowing a smoke ring in his face.

Snape's lip curled even more, and he shut his eyes while the smoke passed. "Smoking is not permitted in this castle. You'll find that rule-bending won't be as easy now that you're no longer needed."

Harry raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Uh huh," he said, then took another drag from his cigarette. "So why are you here?" he asked, blowing more smoke in Snape's face. "Wait, let me clarify. Why are you standing there talking to me? No one knows _why_ you're here on earth, and I couldn't possibly ask you to come up with a good reason. There's not enough time in the world for you to ponder your purpose."

"I came to tell you that every Monday afternoon there's a staff meeting and all… professors," he said acidly looking Harry up and down, "are expected to attend."

"I see. How kind of you to tell me. Is that all?"

"No," Snape said.

"Why am I not surprised."

"Seeing as how your new to… teaching, I thought I'd give you some needed advice."

"Isn't that sweet of you," Harry said with a perfectly straight face.

"If I hear that you favor Gryffindors---"

"Because everyone knows you're fair and unbiased and never favor Slytherins," Harry interrupted.

"---I will ensure that you're stay here will be most unpleasant."

"Most unpleasant? Is that the best you can do? What are you going to do, Snape? Plaster my chair with superglue? Or are you going to insult me because you were picked on by dear old dad?"

Snape face was hard to read. As Harry stared at him he noticed that Snape did look a _little_ older, but not much. Snape ignored the last question and instead decided to prove his superiority with, "I have been teaching here since before---"

"No you haven't," Harry interrupted. He yawned. "I was born before you were teaching. And so what if you've been teaching here longer, you haven't gotten the real job you wanted. The one I have now," Harry said with a smirk. "Maybe when I leave Dumbledore will let you have it. Wouldn't that be nice? You could finally accomplish something and die semi-pleased. It's eating you alive, isn't it, me having this job?"

Snape's lip curled into a smile. "You need it more than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, half laughing.

"I'm not trying to keep a daughter from being taken from me."

"Yeah, neither am I. She's mine, and no one's trying to take her from me. You should stay current on all the latest in your gossip column. You know, the one about your horoscope that tells you how many centuries it'll take you to get a good shag."

"I'm not going to participate in this puerile display of your immaturity."

"_Puerile_? How long have you been waiting to use that word?"

"The staff meeting, Potter, is this afternoon at four. I trust you'll be able to find it seeing as how you can find most anything, unless of course you're married to it."

"Ho ho," Harry said. "You've really wounded me," Harry said, thumping his hand to his chest. "I'm not sure that I'll be able to teach again. I might need to have a good cry."

"I heard you were only staying here temporarily. Tell me, how long do you plan to stay?" Snape asked.

"No idea," Harry answered.

"I would think it would be difficult," Snape said, smiling again, "to get a position at the Ministry now that Weasley will be competing for it. I daresay that Weasley senior would prefer giving his son the position rather than to you."

Harry frowned before he could stop himself.

"Oh," Snape said in mock surprise. "Dear, dear, did he not tell you? Apparently my… gossip column did you say, got one thing right? Harry Potter: friendless. The terrific and inseparable trio is now minus the hero. What a pity. Weasley taking your job, Granger leaving you behind. What, no juvenile remark?" Snape asked, now grinning at Harry's plain face. "I'll see you at four."

Snape whipped around in a whirl of black robes and descended the stairs. Harry shut his door and walked back to his desk where he sat in his chair. Maybe Snape was just playing puerile games with his head. Ron can't be an Auror. He doesn't have what it takes. Harry had told Hermione nearly a year ago that he thought Ron would never be able to do it. He wasn't sure of himself. He wasn't good enough. Was he?

He checked his watch, pushed away from his desk, went to the Staff Lounge, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and transported himself to the Ministry of Magic.

He was greeted with shocked and outlandish stares, but he ignored them, or at least pretended to ignore them. Once, on his way down to Auror Headquarters, he saw Columbus Blair. But he reminded himself about his age and the fact that he was a father who wanted to keep custody of his girl and passed Blair by. Blair conveniently covered his face with a file as Harry passed, so Harry knew Blair finally felt like the idiot he always was.

When Harry marched into Auror Headquarters, he was met with many noises of shock, some shrieks, a few sparse cheers, and applause. Harry smiled quickly and continued to where he used to work and found Ron, sitting in his old desk, looking just as surprised as the rest of the people in this room to see Harry here.

"Harry," Ron said, standing up, knocking coffee all over himself but not really noticing.

"Hey," Harry said then pushed Ron back into the chair. Harry sat on the desk and looked down into Ron's face like he was interrogating him. "So," he began.

"So…?" Ron asked.

"I heard this news about you today from someone I couldn't hate more if I tried with all my strength. So is it true? Are you going to Auror Training?" Harry asked.

A smile crept onto Ron's lips. "You had to hear it from Snape first?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

Harry tried not to smile but was having a hard time. "Yeah, you prat."

Now Ron was grinning. "Well it's true all right. Got accepted a while back."

Harry could've kicked him. "And you didn't tell me because…?" he asked.

"You had a lot going on! I wasn't just going to burst in and say, 'Yeah, so I got accepted to Auror training, bummer about Audrey being evil. See you later!'"

"Why not? I could've used the good news, but instead I have to hear it from Snape, who, if possible, is uglier than ever. And I didn't know?"

"Well I couldn't think of a good time to work it into a conversation, with you yelling at me about how horrible your life is."

Harry's grin faded. So did Ron's.

"I'm sorry I said that," Harry said, and he was. "I was angry and---well there's really no excuse for it. I'm sorry."

Ron looked down at his desk and nodded to himself. "That's all right, Harry."

They didn't look at each other or say anything for about a minute. Harry checked his watch. Lunch would be over in ten minutes and he still hadn't prepped for the next class: fourth years. "Well," Harry said, breaking the silence between them.

"I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yeah."

"And I really am sorry about… well you know."

"Evil Audrey?" Harry asked.

Ron smirked. "Yeah. How are you dealing with that?"

Harry shrugged. "I tell myself every day, every hour, that she was evil. Evil. The more I say it the crazier it sounds. Lame even. I married someone evil. It's like a soap opera or something."

Ron frowned. "What's a soap---"

"Never mind. Anyway…" he said, followed by more silence.

"But you have Dana," Ron said, hoping to inject some cheeriness into Harry. "She's crazy about you, or so I hear."

Harry smiled as he thought of her. His Dana, his little girl. "I do have Dana. She's my everything," he mumbled, still grinning as he saw her face in his mind. "She started pre-school today and couldn't get away from me fast enough. It's understandable. There were kids her age to play with. She'll be glad to see me in a few hours, I hope."

Ron cleared his throat and leaned back a little, as if putting distance between him Harry. "So, does this mean that you're no longer angry with Hermione? She's been wanting to talk to you for a while, but I keep telling her it's too soon."

Harry checked his watch again. "That's a bit complicated."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because she's… She's seen things. Seen things I didn't want to be seen. It was a choice that was only mine to make and she meddled in it."

"Yeah," Ron said delicately, pushing his chair still further back.

"Ron, I'm not going to hit you." Harry said. "You don't have to back away from me."

"I'm not," Ron said, then continued before Harry could argue. "The thing is that you're happy with Dana, right? Harry, Hermione was worried sick about you, and not for the first time. She risked her life to save you. She did save you, not for the first time. And now you have a life with your daughter that you like. Shouldn't you get over this and make amends with her?"

Harry sighed. He had to go back to Hogwarts now. "It's not that simple."

"Yes it is," Ron said. "That's exactly what it is. She risked her life to save you. You have a good life with Dana now, thanks to her. She didn't let you kill yourself. Talk to her."

Harry stood. "Maybe in a few weeks."

Ron sighed exasperatedly and changed the subject.

"She's dating a new guy now, you know," Ron said.

"Yeah, that bastard Jacob Verit who couldn't win my case. He told me."

Ron stood too. "I think she really likes him. I'm not sure how I feel about him, though. He's an attorney after all. Dodgy people, attorneys."

Harry smiled. "I've gotta go. Class in five minutes. Maybe we could do lunch or something."

"Three Broomsticks, tomorrow?" Ron said.

Harry put his hands in his pockets. "Okay," he said. "Sounds good. But I have to get going now."

"How's teaching, anyway?" Ron asked with a wry grin.

"Oh you know," Harry said casually as he backed out of his old cubicle. "It's teaching. Not so bad, I suppose."

Ron laughed. "If you enjoyed it you wouldn't admit it, would you?"

"Probably not," Harry confessed. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, Ron."

"Okay. And Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm glad you decided to stay here in this world. It would be a boring place without you."

Harry held his breath for a moment as he absorbed the sincerity in Ron's eyes. Maybe he hadn't lost his friends after all. And if, after everything Harry had said and done to them, they still wanted Harry around, well, he had the best friends a guy could ask for.

"Thanks, Ron. And congratulations. You've worked hard for Auror for years. You've earned it."

Ron smiled bashfully and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Thanks."

Harry nodded, smiled, and stared at Ron. It was an awkward moment that wasn't passing.

"So should we shake hands or something?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said, and he put his hand out toward Ron, which Ron took and shook vigorously.

Harry continued shaking it then looked into Ron's eyes again. Ron gave him a weird sort of look.

"We could hug _briefly_," Ron suggested.

"Very briefly. We're men after all. No crying," Harry said, pointing his finger at Ron.

"God no," Ron said, then he pulled Harry in for a very short embrace, then they released each other and stepped back.

There was applause from everyone in Headquarters. Harry shook his head and stared at the ground but smiled. Ron stepped closer to him and said under his breath so only Harry could hear, "And insert finger down throat."

Harry laughed.

o-o-o-o-o

Maybe teaching wasn't _so_ bad. It took a while for Harry to admit to it, but he did like teaching just a little. He told no one else, just himself. He knew Ron suspected it by the time Christmas rolled around. Harry had hinted, accidentally, that he would miss some of the students over the two week break. Ron didn't shout "HA!" or poke fun, but he did keep quiet and let Harry tell his stories. Harry was grateful.

This would be the first Christmas with just him and Dana, no Audrey. Last Christmas he was in the hospital being fixed with a new heart, after Lucius Malfoy destroyed his real heart on Leucosia's orders. He forced himself to remember that. Audrey was Leucosia, Leucosia was Audrey. They were the same.

He was getting better about it.

Harry had agreed that Michael and Lydia should join them for Christmas, but he was nervous about it. Though they were very kind people, Harry didn't know them very well. He anticipated plenty of awkward moments.

On the night of December 20th, Harry stretched out on his sofa and lay a catalog on his knees. Dana had told him what she wanted from Santa this year and Harry was determined to get her everything she wanted, and more. But he wasn't going to spoil her. Well, he'd try not to spoil her. Getting gifts wasn't spoiled, though. Getting away with everything and controlling your parents (Dudley) was spoiled.

She'd asked for the normal four year old girl things: dolls, dresses, new ballet slippers, a tutu, and a puppy. Harry had told her no for the puppy because she wasn't old enough. Maybe in a few years he'd get her a dog, but not now. She was disappointed and grumpy at first, but she soon made up for it with a long list of dolls.

Harry was about to circle an item to order when someone knocked on his door. Harry looked up; it glowed blue. He checked his watch, seeing that it was 8:17, then set the catalog down and went for the door.

When he grabbed the handle he knew who was on the other side. He couldn't run from this and he didn't want to. He opened the door.

"Harry," Hermione said with a pleasant tone and a gentle smile.

"Hello," he replied as he studied her.

Hermione was looking quite well. She wore black slacks that flattered her figure, a purple cashmere sweater, and a leather blazer. Her hair was straight for the moment and fell around her face like a cascading waterfall. Her cheeks were pink from the nipping cold, her eyes over-bright, her smile tender.

Harry still held the door open but didn't ask her in.

"Harry, we have to talk," Hermione said, the graceful moment swept away by her usual business-like manner. She pushed open the door and marched inside.

Harry heard her pace behind him in his flat, so he closed the door and muttered under his breath, " Please come in." When he turned around to see her, she began her lecture.

"It's been over a month, Harry and you haven't contacted me once! Not once. Oh you'll talk to Ron and school friends, but you won't talk to me, not once! I'm tired of it. Harry, I saved your life for Christ's sake. The least you could do is keep in touch with me, but you can't even do that. You can't swallow your pride, can you?"

Harry was ready to answer but---

"Don't interrupt me, Harry. I understand being angry with me for killing Audrey, but she was your enemy, she killed innocent people, remember? And she was winning you over. I couldn't let that happen, so I had to kill her, and I'm real sorry. You certainly weren't going to do it, so don't even try to give me the, 'she was my responsibility' rubbish. You and I both know you weren't going to deal with her, so I had to. And I didn't enjoy doing it, not even a little. I killed her because, as Audrey she could be killed, and I had the opportunity.

"Then I had to save you because you had to wallow in self-pity! And I can understand that. It's traumatic. But continuing this stupid charade for weeks because you don't want to admit that I'm right is ridiculous!"

"Shut up, would you!" Harry whispered. "Dana's trying to sleep. Have a little consideration for other people!"

Hermione crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Sorry," she snapped.

"Now," Harry said quietly, "did you come here to yell at me, or did you actually want to have a civilized conversation?"

Hermione's mouth dropped. "Of course I came here for a civilized conversation!"

"Then why did you start by yelling at me?"

"That's beside the point."

"Is it?" Harry asked.

"Yes! Now could we talk?"

"Sure. Talk."

"Don't take that apathetic attitude with me."

"Don't talk to me like you're my mother," Harry sighed. He walked to his sofa and sat down and was irritated when Hermione pulled up a seat opposite him.

"Well," Hermione said once she'd seated herself. "What do you have to say?"

"Hey, you're the one who came here. Why don't you start?"  
"I already have. Don't you have something to say in response?" she asked.

Harry stared at her for a while, organizing his thoughts so he wouldn't sound as crazy as she just had. Hermione wasn't usually this distressed, so Harry knew she was exceptionally angry and frustrated.

"I don't have much to say, no. You've already covered the main points of interest," Harry replied.

"So that's it then?" Hermione asked in a voice very unlike her own.

"Basically, yeah."

Hermione nodded slowly as she stared into his eyes. "You have absolutely nothing to say to me?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Absolutely nothing?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the palms of his hands. He didn't know what to say to her, and even if he did know what to say he wasn't sure how to say it.

He looked up again and saw, to his disappointment, moisture in Hermione's eyes. She wasn't going to let herself cry, not one tiny tear. Her lips trembled slightly as she fought to suppress her emotions.

"I don't know what to say," Harry told her. "And even if I did I'm not sure how I'd say it. I don't know what you expected in coming here, so maybe you should explain that to me."

Hermione swallowed and bit her lip. "I wanted it to be over," she said, sounding calm. "This fight, I mean, not our friendship. I hate fighting with you, Harry, and I know you don't like it either. We're usually good at resolving our differences. Maybe not recently," she added, "but most of the time. I just want to put it behind us where it belongs."

Harry sighed and shut his eyes. "You killed her. You meddled where you shouldn't have. You've seen things that I didn't want to share. It's not easy to put it behind me. It's just not that simple. I loved Audrey, and you killed her. I wanted out of this life, and you forced me back into it." Harry looked up at her, waiting for her response.

Hermione's eyes were no longer moist. She sat a little straighter and smirked as she nodded. "Harry," she said loftily, "I'm going to tell you something that you desperately need to hear. It's rude, it's insensitive, but it needs to be said and I'm going to say it," she told him. She took a deep breath then firmly stated, "Get over it!"

Harry blinked. "_What_?"

"You heard me. Get over it! We're all sorry about Audrey. We all know how much you loved her. It was obvious how much you cared for her, and I'm sorry she was evil and trapped you and made you love her. I'm _really_ sorry! But she _was_ evil, she was cruel, she was a murderer, _she_ did all of this to you, not me, not Ron, not anyone else. Your precious Audrey did this to you! She made you fall in love with her because you have power, and she wanted a piece of it. She got inside your head and learned all your little secrets and used them for her own agenda. She knew you so well she could predict your next move. She let you to bury yourself in hole that you wouldn't be able to dig yourself out of. She trapped you, then tortured you. Harry, open your eyes and move on with your life!"

Harry meant to stand up but his knees were too weak to hold his body weight. He fell back to the sofa.

"Harry, how long is it going to take for you to acknowledge that your precious Audrey wasn't thinking about you and what you needed but serving her own self-interests? Sure she loved you… on a perverted level. But she didn't want what was best for you, which is obvious because of what she did to you! She didn't want you to be happy, she wanted you on her side so she wouldn't have to fight you. So she could have your power. Can't you see that?"

"You don't know that," Harry said weakly.

Hermione groaned. "Yes I do! _You_ can't see it because you don't _want_ to see it. You were happy with her, you loved her, she gave you a daughter. You just don't want to taint those good memories with her real nature." She paced around her chair, her arms crossed, as she watched him. "I don't believe for one second that you haven't admitted the truth to yourself about her. You know what she was. I think you just want someone to blame for your pain, so you've picked me."

"That's not it at all," Harry said.

"No?" she said. "Please tell me why I'm wrong."

Now Harry found the strength to stand. He didn't like that she was towering over him, making herself feel more powerful. "I'm furious with you for different reasons!"

"Oh, like saving your life so you could raise your little girl?" Hermione said. "Stupid me. How could I be so selfish? Ron says you're very happy with Dana, that you're planning a holiday with her and her relations. Wow, I'm sure horrible to have made all of _that_ possible."

"You don't understand anything," Harry growled.

"_I don't understand anything_? Well then, perhaps you could explain what it is that I've missed because I think I'm right on target!"

Harry advanced on her but she didn't move. "You don't know what it's like," he snarled, his eyes boring holes into hers.

"Don't know what _what's_ like? You're going to need to be a little more specific, Harry," Hermione replied. He was so close to her she could feel his rising body heat and heard his heart thundering in his chest.

"Isn't it obvious? You're so smart, why don't you figure it out."

"Because I want you to explain it to me," she said, suddenly speaking calmly.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Hermione persisted. "Harry, you need to get this out."

Harry rolled his eyes then laughed. "Oh please. Don't pull the psychobabble rubbish on me! I don't need to get anything '_out'_ I just want you to get out of my face and leave me the hell alone!"

"And I will when you tell me why you're still so angry. I'll leave forever and never come back if you want. I'll never speak to you again, never write, never attempt to contact you again if that's what you want, but you must tell me what's bothering you so much."

"I don't have to tell you anything," Harry said.

"Yes, actually, you do. I'm part of this, you made me a part of it when you put me in the hospital. You made me a part of this ordeal when you slammed your fist into my face--- when you screamed at me, attacked me, and could've killed me because you were enraged with Leucosia. You have to tell me what's eating at you, Harry; I have to know. You owe me that for what you put me through, intentionally or not."

Harry stared down into her determined face and saw that coveted unshed tear beading up in a corner of her eye. She wiped it away before it could stream down her face and continued to stare at him.

"I didn't want you to be part of this, and I never meant to hurt you," he said.

Hermione chuffed a laugh. "Well, you did, and not just once. Now tell me what I can't possibly understand. Tell me, Harry. Why are you still so angry?"

Harry searched her eyes and willed himself to see her thoughts, hear her ideas and her secrets. But Hermione was focused on Harry and the answer she desperately needed to hear. Not once did she break eye contact with him, but she seemed to open her eyes, allowing him to see inside.

"How do you know there's anything?" he asked.

Hermione breathed steadily. "Because I've been inside of you."

Harry grinded his teeth. "You think seeing what you saw gives you some kind of new insight? You know nothing, you get that? _Nothing_."

"That scares you, doesn't it? I've seen those demons you've kept locked away for so long and never told anyone about. You can't run from them. And I do have a special insight now, whether you like it or not." She stood a little taller and puffed up her chest. "Now stop avoiding my question. What is it? What's gnawing at you? I know there's something Harry, some idea or thought that's killing you and keeping you from moving on with life."

"I _have_ moved on," Harry said. "Look around, Hermione, that's all you have to do to see you're wrong. You just can't be wrong, can you? _It's killing you_. I've got a new life with a new career. You're wrong."

"No, I'm not," Hermione replied with a devilish smirk. "You keep secrets so well, Harry. Until weeks ago, I had no idea what a chest of secrets you kept locked away inside you. You may keep them locked up, but I know they hurt you; I know they haunt you. Tell me. Please tell me what's eating at you. Harry please," she pleaded. "Please just tell me, and I'll go away forever," she whispered.

"There's nothing," Harry said, attempting to sound sharp, but he actually sounded weak. His legs were wobbling a little.

"Tell me what it is," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing his sweater in her hands. "Harry, tell me."

Harry shut his eyes and shook his head. "There's nothing. There's nothing."

Hermione pulled herself closer, touched his arm lightly, and pleaded again, "Tell me."

"There's nothing, Hermione."

"Stop lying. Tell me. Tell, me, Harry," she whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said.

She bit her lip and held her breath and waited. She could feel him trembling ever so slightly under her fingertips. She looked up and saw his lower lip quiver, she saw him screw his eyes shut tighter than they were before, she saw him shake his head.

Hermione exhaled. "It's all right. You can tell me."

He shook his head, side to side, repeatedly. "No. There's nothing."

"Tell me, Harry. Just tell me, and I'll leave if you would like. Oh please just tell me, please, please, please tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me," she whispered.

For a long moment neither of them said anything. Hermione was gearing up to try again but Harry spoke softly.

"She was evil," he mumbled. "She was _evil_."

Hermione looked up at him and tried to understand. This wasn't new information, but Harry was telling her, he was letting her in. It was important to him for her to know.

"Yes she was," Hermione said. "But she's gone now. She can't hurt you anymore."

Harry opened his bloodshot eyes and looked down upon her. "No," Harry said, shaking his head again. "But she was the only one."

"The only one? I don't understand."

Harry's eyes glossed over as he stared at a spot behind Hermione. "She was the only one. Everything was okay when I was with her. Whatever I did it was okay. It was okay," he whispered. "It didn't change anything. But she was wrong, she was evil, she wasn't right."

Hermione tried to put it together.

"I was so happy with her, but she was completely wrong."

"Wrong? You mean she was false?"

Harry shook his head again. "No, I knew she was wrong. I had a feeling all along, and I ignored it because I wanted… I wanted what I'd been searching for, and I didn't care that she was wrong."

"Wrong. You mean she wasn't what she led you to believe?"  
"I suppose," Harry said, but Hermione knew by the way he said it that that's not what he meant. "But they were all wrong. Every one of them. Something was so… so wrong in each of them. They were all corrupt in some new way."

"Who?" Hermione asked. "Who, Harry?"

"Maybe it's not them. Maybe I'm the one who's wrong," he breathed.

And suddenly the pieces slid into place.

Hermione smiled because she knew it wasn't true, not at all. "Harry, that's not it at all."

"Audrey was evil."

Hermione nearly laughed from relief. To her it seemed ridiculous, but to Harry it was serious and heart-wrenching. There was something corrupt in each of them, but it didn't mean Harry was wrong. "Harry, why are you so afraid that you'll turn?" she asked with seriousness.

He looked away from his spot on the wall and back down to her.

"Harry, you have no idea how good you are. You really don't know, do you?" she asked, grinning but weeping all at once. "You're filled with it. I'm sorry you can't see it like I do. You're filled with love. You'll never become like them; you'll never turn away from who you are. You were just searching so desperately that Audrey preyed on you because she knew. She knew how much love you had to give, and she knew how desperately you wanted to give it. Even after all the pain those other women, Voldemort, and the Dursleys caused, she knew you could never stop loving people. You can never stop, Harry. You're too good."

Harry frowned, but not from anger. _Never stop loving people_, he heard Sirius say, over and over again. He'd almost forgotten his godfather's advice given nearly a year ago. It didn't make sense at the time it was given, it didn't make sense months ago, but it was clearer now. A knot around his chest loosened, and he let out a sigh.

Hermione grinned and laughed a little. "You'll never be like Voldemort, Harry," she said locking his eyes in hers. It was important that he know, that he really understood. "You'll never be like Malfoy, or the Lestranges, or the Death Eater who killed Mrs. Weasley, and you'll never be like Leucosia. You won't be because you don't _want_ to be like them. Remember Harry, you're the hero, not the villain. Audrey tricked you, but you turned her down. Don't you know what that means? Harry you refused your greatest temptation. You said she made you happy, but you refused her."

"But I _was_ tempted. I wanted to be with her," he said.

"Right. You wanted to be _with_ her-you didn't want to be _like_ her," she said softly. "Yet you still turned her down because you knew it was wrong to be like her. Harry, you couldn't be evil if you tried. And it's not just wicked women who are attracted to you, and you know that. You picked the wrong ones for all the wrong reasons. That's a normal thing. You'll grow out of that one."

Harry frowned at her and was displeased when he saw her smiling up at him. "I didn't say _that_ was a problem," Harry mumbled.

"No, but you were thinking it," she replied.

"You don't know that."

Hermione bit her lip to conceal her smile, then suddenly frowned pensively. "How long have you been---have you always been so worried about it? Somehow becoming evil?" she asked.

Harry swallowed. "I can't get away from it."

"You can't be. I know you can't. Your fundamentally good. You're right. Harry, after everything you've been through you're still a good person."

Harry chuffed. "No I'm not."

Hermione shook her head as she looked up at him. "Why do you say that?" she asked, pained.

Harry pulled away from her, turned his head and shrugged. "I dunno."

"Don't you?" she asked. "Harry, no one's perfect."

"I know that," Harry snapped.

"Then why do you insist that something's wrong with you?"

Harry paced around his flat, as if searching for something. Hermione knew he simply didn't want to answer her.

"You," Harry started, but paused. He shook his head, then threw his shoulders back and spoke again. "This is bullshit," he said. "Everything you just said is complete bullshit. You didn't trust me. You weren't confident I would turn her down the _second_ time, so you had to kill her. And I understand that so don't get all defensive again. But I know you're lying to me. You _don't_ trust me. You thought you were losing me to her. You thought if I stayed with Audrey… well, you didn't know what I was capable of." He smiled sinisterly at her and shrugged. "So you see the dilemma, right? You can't have me both ways, Hermione. Either I'm too good that it would be impossible for me to turn, or I can't be trusted to do the right thing. Hell, God only knows what I would've done with that woman, right?" he asked.

Hermione's bottom lip quivered and she crossed her arms. "That's not fair," she whispered, her eyes glistening.

"What?" Harry asked, frowning. "That I can hear what you think? That's not fair? Or it's not fair that I know the truth about you?"

Hermione didn't answer.

"Ah. That's what I thought." He strolled casually into his kitchen and started making coffee. "But I want you to know I appreciate your…lack of confidence and then confidence in me. I'm capable of dark magic… then I'm not! Capable…. Not. Evil…good! Can't seem to make up your mind, can you?"

Hermione cleared her throat as she wiped at her eyes. "I thought…" she held her breath. "I thought you would go with her not because you were a dark wizard, Harry," she said softly.

Harry laughed a little. "No?"

Hermione shook her head and walked toward him. "No. Sometimes when people want something so badly…they'll do anything to have it. I didn't understand," she whispered, closing the distance between them. "I didn't see what was so special about her. She was ordinary. She was beautiful, yes, but so ordinary. Nothing about her was special. But I'm not you."

"Really going for the obvious, eh?" Harry said.

"Shut up," Hermione said with a slight frown. "Just shut up. Reading minds doesn't mean you know everything." She bit her lip as she glared at him. Harry was no longer smirking. "Audrey sailed in at just the right time, with the perfect offer, with all the trimmings a man like you could ask for. A woman who was perfectly willing to do what you asked. There were no risks. She was older than you, had more experience, had felt the pain of death and abandonment, was willing to have you, willing to put up with you, trusted you, predicted what you would think and feel, gave you a home, introduced you to a child, lived in secret for you, bent over backwards to accommodate you and make you happy… Harry, what wasn't to love? If someone was willing to do that for me… I'd want to be with them too," she said. She sighed and shook her head. "Harry that's not love. I mean," she said strongly, "I think you really loved her, but she wasn't very real. She was too perfect to be real."

Harry stared.

"She was too good to be true. You knew that." Hermione pulled out a stool and sat on it as she watched Harry watch her. "I've never been you. I don't know what it's like and frankly I don't want to know. I can't fathom the pain you've lived through," she said, her lip wobbling. "I'll never understand what it's like. If the only option for peace is death…" she trailed off.

Harry remained silent, his drink untouched. He wondered if he should say anything or if he should leave the pounding silence alone.

"I can't judge you," she continued. "All I knew is that you'd gone for years, you're whole life, without knowing what it was like. You'd had tastes of it, but the moment you found someone who cared for you they died. I can't imagine how that must feel, so I can see why you would ignore that feeling that something was wrong with Audrey's perfection. To hell with it. She seemed so safe, didn't she? What could possibly go wrong with her? A housewife and a mother… what could happen?" she said, her eyes moist with tears. "So while I don't really know, I can see how choosing between her and this," she said, waving her hands around the flat, "might not be such a hard choice."

Now Harry held his breath.

"Ron and I had no idea how alone you really were," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't check in on you, and I'm sure he is too. You should've never had to be alone when you had us. But I thought you were fine. You never told me anything. You lied to me and said everything was fine. How was I to know?"

"I'm not blaming you," Harry finally said.

"Not now, but you did earlier. You came back--you lived instead of dying--for Ron and me. And then we went on with our lives. You said that, remember? You didn't want us to feel sorry for you, isn't that right? You hate that. Everyone always feels so sorry for little orphan Harry, and you got tired of it. But it's not my fault, or Ron's, that you didn't say anything."

Harry moistened his lips as he watched her. "I don't blame you," he said. "I just wish I hadn't been so naïve to think everything would be the same after Hogwarts. I didn't like the idea of things being different."

Hermione nodded. "So, what you're saying is, you still regret that choice? You still wish you would've gone on?" she asked with a sad smile.

Harry looked away from her to blink his eyes. "I dunno," he said as he shrugged. "Right now things are okay. I have Dana, I have a job, Ron and I are on good terms again, and no one's trying to kill me or Dana… But right now is the best it's been in seven years. All those times I thought I was happy I was with her. And she…" Harry picked up his glass and drank. "Is this how it'll be forever? Whenever I think I'm really happy, I'm not? Don't misunderstand me," he said as he looked at her again. "I love Dana so much." His eyes were moistening, but he tried to cover it. He sniffed and spoke slowly. "But one day she's going to leave me… One day I won't be that important to her, and she'll see me less and less. She'll go off to Hogwarts, then she'll move out, get married… And I'll be alone again," he said heavily. "Oh sure, I'll be welcome anytime, but it's not the same. When I had Audrey I knew I had someone. I had a companion in life, someone I could grow old with," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes glossing with tears.

"See," he began, "unlike you I _do_ think something's wrong with me. I can't help how I am and how I turned out. It doesn't take a genius to realize I'm… I'm fucked up. I know I am. I don't need Marc Simon or that Narayan woman or any other academic telling me something's wrong. I can see it for myself. So you're right. Audrey was too wonderful to be turned down. She accepted me no questions asked. She wasn't cross with me when I was horrible to her. I could treat he so bad, but she still kept me. Whenever I was around her I wanted to be a better man. I wanted to give her what she deserved from me, and I usually failed. But she was always there.

"And it wasn't real," he mouthed, his voice failing him. "She was the only one who would take all of me, and she wasn't real. She was… she was just… wrong."

Hermione stared at him, unaware that she too was crying.

"That's—that's not true," she mumbled. She cleared her throat and wiped her face. "Harry that's not true at all," she cried, wiping constantly as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Did you really never know? Did you never see how I looked at you?"

Harry glanced down at his drink. "I knew."

Hermione attempted a laugh but it came out like a sob. "Then why?"

"I told you. Hermione," he said clearly and almost with urgency, "I am seriously fucked up. When you took a little trip through my mind you only saw part of it. I am irrevocably screwed up and there is nothing, _nothing_ I can do about it. You don't know," he said, crying again. He bit his bottom lip and dabbed at his eyes again. "You can't be with me and be happy. Audrey… well, she only put up with me because she wanted my power. But you…" he said. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've done or what I _can_ do. I mean," he diverted his eyes, "we could be together for a short while. Maybe a few years, even. But you would leave me, even Audrey left me for a while. I was too much for her, even, to deal with. I can't hurt you anymore, and I can't feel that way again. As hard as it is to live alone, it's better to chose that life than be _left_ alone. And I can't lose you as a friend. If we got married I would hurt you over and over again. You think you love me but… Hermione you'd hate me. You'd leave me forever, and I… I wouldn't be able to deal." He pushed his glass aside and sighed.

"I think you're exaggerating this," Hermione said. "I don't think you're 'irrevocably screwed up' at all. Sure, being locked up in a cupboard for ten years has left a mark, but to say you're doomed is a bit much. Harry you're the way you are because of your past. I know I only saw splices of it, but I'm sure," she said, leaning forward, "that's why you think you're fu-screwed up. But you're not. You're a human being and none of us are perfect. Plenty of children are abused, many worse than you, but that doesn't mean they're hopeless cases."

Harry frowned. "You can actually sit there and think I'm normal?" he asked.

"You're nowhere near normal, but what is normal?" Hermione asked. "But we'll save that clichéd conversation for another day. I don't know why you hate yourself so much, but you have a lot to be proud of and you're ignoring those qualities. Harry, you simply need to get all of this out of you. You can't bury your past and expect it to stay there. You were not the one who was wrong, it was those people Dumbledore put you with. Just because they weren't capable of loving you doesn't mean others aren't. You've ignored Sirius, Molly, Remus, Ron's siblings, Arthur, me, Dumbledore, and Dana from this equation. Yeah you have some faults, and perhaps you think they're uglier than how I see them, but it doesn't make you a bad person."

"I slay four men with a knife that Audrey handed to me. I was covered in their blood. I ripped at them like an animal when I could've done it by magic. I chose to kill them with my hands, to hear their screams of pain. What kind of justification do you give that?" he asked, pounding his fist on the counter.

Hermione shut her eyes and sighed. "Harry, I don't know," she breathed. "They attacked you, and you fought back. You'd had your heart ripped out, literally and figuratively, by Leucosia. The Black Order be damned. I still don't think you're evil." Hermione waited for him to look into her eyes before smiling.

He chewed his bottom lip, watching her smile sadly at him.

"You're still my best friend," she said. "You came and saved me, Harry. You and Ron came and saved me. I think that's a pretty redeeming quality, even if you don't."

Harry picked at a spot on the counter and without looking at her said, "I can't help it."

"I know you can't."

He glanced up at her and saw her smiling still, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "So that's it then, right?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, that was pretty heavy."

Harry nodded and smirked. "Yeah."

"I'm going to use the loo, all right?" Hermione asked. "I'm a little blotchy." She pulled a few tissues from her pocket and wiped her face.

"Use mine. Dana's bathroom's a complete pig sty."

Hermione took her leave, and the moment she'd walked around the corner Harry withdrew a pack of cigarettes from a drawer and lit up. He had only a few windows of opportunity to smoke. He never did it around Dana, and he knew Hermione hated it. But he felt a huge migraine coming, and he was going to stop it. He took a nice long drag and sighed. That's better. He figured he had about five minutes before Hermione came back.

He jumped up and sat on his counter as he thought of everything Hermione had said. Maybe she was right. He hoped she was. Living would be much easier if she were right.

He started on his second cigarette when Hermione returned, looking still pensive. Harry took a long drag when she looked at him.

"You know smoking is so bad for you."

Harry nodded. "Sing me a new tune."

"All right," she said, looking very serious. "Did you know that excessive tobacco use may cause erectile dysfunction?"

Harry spit out the cigarette, and it flew halfway across the kitchen.

Hermione held in her laugh for only a few seconds but not much longer than that. First it started out as a nervous giggle but when Harry turned around to give her a frightened and intimidating look, the giggles transformed into a raucous laughter.

"That's a joke right?" Harry asked. "You just did that to break the tension, yes?" he asked, coughing now.

Hermione, tears in her eyes, still laughing, shook her head.

"It's not a joke?" he asked, his eyes bulging.

Hermione's laughter, if possible, grew louder. She clutched her stomach and bent over from her mirth.

"I don't see what's so funny," Harry said, no humor in his voice. "That's not funny at all. No one told me that."

She stood up straight, her face red but happy, and tried to calm down. "I can see what's really important to you," she giggled.

"Yeah, well… I'm going to have to find something else. Stop laughing," he said, but that only made her burst into the giggles again. "That's a serious problem you're laughing about. You're a woman and can't possibly understand how serious that can be."

Hermione cleared her throat and tried looking proper, keeping a straight face.

"I mean what if… what if Jakey-poo had that problem? Would you be laughing then?" Harry asked.

Hermione snorted but turned it into a cough. She held her hand on her chest as she finished her fake cough. "Jake doesn't smoke. He's very healthy."

"How sweet," Harry replied. "He sounds perfect for you. Sure he's a horrible lawyer who can't defend an innocent man and keep him from going to prison for three months, but at least he's healthy."

"That," Hermione said, shaking her finger at Harry, "wasn't his fault. You dug your own hole then lay in it, Harry. You didn't tell Jake the whole story. I'm going to side with him this time."

"You're still dating him," Harry said sourly. "Hell, you started seeing that loser like a week after you came back from Ithaca. How—I mean did he just stroll up to you're house and ask you out? When did he happen?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, he found me attractive when we were practicing my testimony for your trial. He just didn't want to say anything because I was your friend, it was a bad time, and I was under a lot of stress. So when he heard I was alive and had returned safe and sound, he came to see me. He's a very bright man, he's kind, he has a sense of humor, which I can't say for Luke Broadmoor, and he's handsome."

"He looks fourteen," Harry replied.

"No he doesn't."

"Yeah he does. Ron and I agree."

"Oh, if you and Ron agree then that settles it," she said. "_I_ think he's handsome. I don't need you or Ron to think he's good looking."

"He reminds me of that guy from those movies," Harry said thoughtfully.

Hermione scowled. "Who and what movies?"  
"You know," Harry said with a confused face. "Those really long movies. They're newer movies, with all the different guys all doing different things at the same time. And Jake, he looks like the guy with the really long blonde Veela hair."

Hermione shook her head and shrugged.

"You've seen them. Yeah, Jake looks just like that guy with the Veela hair, with the bow and arrows. That guy in those movies always states the obvious in fancy way, like Leucosia or Narayan. You know those movies, right?"

"Well, not the way you're describing them."

"Yeah you do. There are wizards, and there's this big spider, and that little creepy guy who looks like an over-grown house elf, a bunch of tiny people, and those freaky men dressed in black riding on screaming horses."

"OH!" Hermione said, pointing at him. "Lord of the Rings!"

Harry snapped his fingers together. "Yeah, that's it. Jake looks like that guy with the hair."

"Legolas? Huh. You know, I think you're right. But Jake's hair is brown and much shorter than that."

"He looks twelve," Harry told her.

Hermione sighed. "Jake's thirty-one, not twelve. It just means he's going to age very well."

"Whatever, he still looks twelve. And he's not even very smart. He lost my case, Hermione, and I was innocent. He lost and now you're dating him."

"How many times must we go over this? Harry you lost because you didn't tell Jake all the information he needed. Telepathy, remember?"

"Yeah, telepathy…" he trailed off. He sighed and stared at his counter again. "Whose idea was it to link you to my mind with Starling?" Harry asked. He'd been wondering this for a while but never thought to ask Ron.

"Narayan. We were all sitting in here, and by 'we' I mean Ron, Doctor Simon, Clarice, and me, trying to figure out a way to wake you up. Then I fell asleep, had that strange dream with you in it, then like a badly written play, Narayan storms in here with her usual dramatic entrance and has all the answers."

Harry was silent for a moment then he said, "That prick Simon was in _my_ home? I hate that man."

"I know. He wasn't much help anyway. So she had the idea, and she stayed with us while I was searching for you in your own head, then she left."

"That's it? She just left?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Has she come back to see you?" Hermione asked him with a questioning look.

"No. I hope she doesn't."

"She's not that bad," Hermione said. "She's just not so good with people, and she's a little long winded."

"_Very_ long winded. She loves to hear herself talk. She sounds like a villain from a really bad sci-fi movie. It's really kind of sad."

Hermione giggled.

"Don't start that again. I'm afraid you'll wake Dana," Harry said, though he was laughing because she was. "How did she know you'd had that dream anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think she had surveillance of the flat. You know how proud she is of being a spy."

Harry was about to respond when a tiny voice came from the other side of the room.

"Daddy?" Dana squeaked, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled into the living room.

Harry walked out of the kitchen to see her.

"What is it?" he asked her in a very gentle voice. "Did you have another bad dream?"

Dana shuffled over to him and raised her arms so he could pick her up, which she did. She rest her head against his chest and shut her eyes. "Wead me a stowry," she groaned, slightly grumpily. She nuzzled her head into his chest, and Harry wrapped her in his strong arms.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink momentarily, but Harry didn't notice. She smiled and got to her feet. It was late, and Harry had to take care of Dana.

Harry gave her a look of inquiry when she stood.

"I should get going so you can take care of the littlest Potter."

Dana opened her eyes and turned her head to see whose voice she was hearing. Then she beamed. "Hewrminee!" she squealed, slipped out of Harry's arms, and scuttled over to Hermione.

Hermione kneeled down so Dana could give her a hug. Harry watched as his daughter embraced Hermione and kissed her, and Hermione returned the gesture. Dana giggled then ran back to Harry.

"Why don't you pick out a short story, and I'll be there in a minute?" Harry said to her. Dana agreed and scurried back to her room. Harry watched her slip a little on the slick floor, but she didn't fall; she kept running.

Hermione was standing by the door with a friendly smile splashed on her face. He walked over to her.

"She have a favorite story?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I have it memorized."

Hermione chuckled. "Happy reading to you."

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I'll see you later, yes?"

"I'd like that. We'll do lunch," she said.

"All right," Harry said.

"Great. Good luck with your kids next year. They're always harder to deal with after Christmas. And you work with Snape now, don't you? We'll have to talk about that over lunch."

"I hate him," Harry said. "Any advice for dealing with the prick?"

"Other than watch your back? No, no advice. Neville says it's entertaining watching you and Snape have a row."

"Watch my back," Harry repeated. "That is good common advice. Thanks."

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed as she grinned. "You're welcome Harry. Try not to let Snape get to you."

"Fat chance," he mumbled.

Hermione ambled over to him then wound her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Harry Potter," she said.

Harry smiled a little. "You have to use my surname? Is there another Harry around here that I can't see?"  
Hermione blushed then kissed his cheek.

"I love you too, Hermione Granger." He slid his fingers through her hair then kissed her forehead and left cheek. "Jake's a lucky man, even though he looks like a ten year old."

"And an elf, apparently."

"Yeah."

Hermione grinned. "I'll see you later. Maybe in a few days, have some kind of holiday get-together?"

"Sure."

Hermione unwound her arms from his waist then walked toward the door. Harry opened it and watched her leave.

"Oh," she said, looking surprised, "I almost forgot." She stuck her hand in her pocket and withdrew her closed fist. "I found this on your bedroom floor, but it was broken." Hermione opened her hand and Harry saw his glass cross in one piece laying in her palm. Harry had shattered it when it had been delivered to him from Vincula. Hermione had magically put it back together again.

Harry looked from the cross to her face. She wasn't smiling, nor was she frowning.

"You _do_ have a family Harry. You got what you wanted," she said. Then she reached out for his hand, opened it, placed the cross within it, and closed his fingers around it. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

She smiled once more, and with a _pop,_ she was gone.

Harry grasped the cross in his closed hand and shut the door.

She was gone. There wasn't a slight trace of her left in this flat except of her memory in Harry's mind. Her smell still lingered in the air occasionally. Sometimes he saw her in Dana's smile. Sometimes he felt as if she was watching him, but he knew she was gone. Audrey only existed in Harry's memory. Hermione was right. She could no longer bring him pain or happiness. She existed now only in Harry's memory.

He sighed. She was gone.

Harry stepped confidently to Dana's room. He thought perhaps she'd fallen asleep while waiting for Harry, but he was wrong. Dana was sitting cross-legged on her pink bed with a fairytale in her lap.

"I love you," Harry said to her.

"I love you too, Daddy. Wead dis!" she said, showing him the story.

Harry walked in the room and sat on the floor beside the bed. Dana lay her head down on her pillow and handed Harry the book. From her angle she could see the pictures.

Before Harry opened the story book he reflected on his recent past. It wasn't like the story in his hands, and he knew it never would be a fairytale with a perfect ending. There would be trials and suffering still to come. Tranquility never lasted long, and he didn't expect it to. Danger would rise again, but it would also recede.

Harry rubbed his thumb on the cross in his right hand. In this room sat not one but two orphans who, in each other, had found a family. They were not alone in the world and never would be.

Harry didn't know what to expect from the future. He didn't know what the future would give to him or take away. He only knew that he was glad to have his precious girl with him, glad that he'd made amends with both Ron and Hermione, glad for Dana's health and happiness, glad even for Snape.

Well no, not really. If Snape keeled over and died tomorrow Harry wouldn't mind.

He laughed to himself at the thought. The human condition was a strange and funny thing. Each person was so dynamically different from another, but each shared common needs, common goals and strivings. Complexities of the mind are not so easily simplified. Survival was important, but it wasn't what Harry wanted from life. Harry would not fight for his _own_ survival, but for Dana's, for Ron's, for Hermione's.

Leucosia was wrong. She was right about a variety of things, but she was fundamentally flawed. Humanity has its darkness, but even the tiniest sliver of light defeats it.

Harry smiled ruefully as he thought of Hermione.

Dana rapped Harry's head. "Wead, Daddy!" she commanded.

With Hermione's laugh ringing pleasantly in his ears, with Dana beside him her hand on his head, Harry opened the fairytale and began.

"Once upon a time…"


	15. Afterword: Choosing Life

I suppose in the music industry this would be called a bonus track. It's not really a chapter but a vision of sorts. In chapter thirteen and fourteen both Hermione and Harry recall the aftermath from the duel between Harry and Voldemort. There are only a few theories out there as to how Harry will defeat Voldemort and what will happen thereafter. I have two. The one I'm writing here is a theory that takes little risk and doesn't include all the hints given by Jo Rowling. My other theory is much more complex and would take much more to write. It also wouldn't allow for what happened in Human Condition.

If you're interested please read, if not then I can't force you to. It's just what Harry experienced, per Human Condition, after he killed Voldemort in the duel of the century.

_Choosing Life_

The blinding gold light followed by the burst of green confused Harry momentarily. For a brief second he blacked out. In a brief second he was standing, clutching his wand tightly as it was connected to Voldemort's beam, then he was on the ground. It was only a brief second.

Harry pushed himself up on his elbows so he could look across the room and hopefully glimpse his opponent.

The two of them had been battling relentlessly for ten minutes and after a time Harry became physically exhausted. No Death Eaters had been present, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found, and Harry made it impossible for Ron or Hermione to help. It was just the two of them, one on one. Ron and Hermione had gotten him this far, worked with him, encouraged him, inspired hope in his heart, but this was Harry's battle. Only Harry could defeat Voldemort. Only Harry had the power. He wouldn't have them risk their lives for his own.

A shiver of fear spiraled down Harry's spine as he tried to see Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure if he'd killed him or not. He thought perhaps he had, but he'd blacked out for a brief second after their wands connected.

Voldemort was lying flat on the floor and from here Harry couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. He pushed himself off the floor and walked slowly over to him.

It was hard to describe the emotion Harry felt as he saw Voldemort's body slowly decaying to ash. Relief wasn't a strong enough word to encapsulate everything Harry felt. Joy, happiness, pleasure, were too weak for the warmth, the easing in his soul.

It was all over. Voldemort was dead.

"NO!" cried a voice from Harry's left.

Harry whirled around and saw a man he didn't recognize. The man had gray hair, a handsome face, and a thin stature.

"NOO!" He yelled again, staring not at Harry but at Voldemort's form.

Harry walked toward him, thinking the man looked vaguely familiar.

The man heard Harry and turned toward him, his face mixed with vile hatred but also sadness. And Harry recognized him. Tom Riddle.

"You insolent fool!" Riddle screamed, advancing on Harry. "You destroyed me!" Riddle tried to grab Harry, tried to strangle him, but his hands passed through him. Knowing he'd failed, Riddle thought a full body attack might work, but he passed through Harry again. Harry turned around to watch when he saw something even more peculiar and more disturbing than anything he'd seen yet.

Himself. He saw himself, lying on the dark floor, eyes wide open, mouth parted, limbs spread. There was his shattered wand in his right hand smoke rising from its splinters. Harry shook his head. No, this was just a delusion. This wasn't real. Harry must've knocked his head on the floor when he blacked out. He wasn't dead. He _couldn't_ be dead.

Riddle was also staring at Harry's body. Then he turned and grinned.

"I'm not alone here," he said wickedly. He cackled but Harry vaguely heard him. He walked to his body and kneeled down beside it. His green eyes, Lily's green eyes, once so full of life, were dull. They were open but they did not see.

"No," Harry mumbled, shaking his head. "This isn't real. This is a nightmare. This isn't real."

Riddle's laughter filled the desolate space. "Harry Potter, the boy who lived!" he screamed, mingling his delight with fury as his mirth rang out.

Harry stood and spun around. "SHUT UP!" he yelled, thinking of nothing better or appropriate to say. "SHUT UP!"

He ceased when Harry squint at a point behind Riddle. A darkness, darker than the shadow they were standing in, formed in mid air. Riddle turned slowly to see what Harry was so interested in.

Slowly the dark point grew and took a curious form. As it morphed, Harry felt a chilling, a biting cold nip at his…was it his skin? It couldn't be, he no longer had skin. It nipped at his soul. Harry was curious and watched the dark form take shape: an archway. A stone archway that was not veiled with a black curtain, but only black.

Off to the right of the archway another form evolved. This one shimmered, stirred, and grew bright. It seemed to be moving toward them rather than appearing like an apparition. Harry watched as this new form changed into a white being. A woman.

She wore robes of glowing white and radiating from her was a nimbus of gold. Her bare feet left no shadow on the ground as she walked, no sound as she stepped closer to them. Her face glowed, exuded warmth, showed love. Her emerald green eyes sparkled, and her dark red hair shimmered in the gold light that surrounded her.

Lily smiled at Harry but said nothing to him. He blinked in quick succession, thinking perhaps he was hallucinating it all, but she was still there. Her presence did something… made him feel… complete.

But she turned away from him to stare at Riddle. She didn't stare with hate, or anything Harry could describe. She simply stared.

Riddle's eyes were wide with enormous fear as he stared upon her. His expression led Harry to believe that he saw something horrendous, something gruesome and more evil than himself, rather than a radiant and beautiful woman standing before him.

"No," Riddle pleaded, though Lily had said nothing. "NO!"

Riddle fell soundlessly to the floor and futilely dug his fingernails into the ground. He was being dragged by some invisible force into the archway. His face contorted as he screamed. "NO! NO!"

Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly but he did not breathe. Riddle was in the archway now, but he was gripping the sides, trying to pull himself out. "NO!" he screamed, eyes wide with fear. "NOOO!"

In a moment Riddle was gone and heard no more.

The blackness inside the archway melted away and the black veil took it's place. Harry watched it wave until a door in the distant corner slowly opened to reveal Hermione. She ran but Harry knew something was wrong. Her movements were sluggish, but Harry saw that she was running as fast as she could. She was followed closely by Ron, who was also trapped in some kind of time warp.

"They'll miss you," Lily said in a rich pleasant voice.

Harry turned to her and watched her grin at him.

Harry tried to find his voice. "Am I… am I…d-dead?" Harry asked, his voice cracking.

Lily nodded and smiled sadly. "Yes."

Harry didn't believe her. He came about and watched as Hermione and Ron slid before Harry's body and shook him. He couldn't hear but he knew Hermione was sobbing. Her face was red, her eyes full of tears. Ron did nothing but stare down at Harry's body.

Harry shook, his soul quaked. "No," Harry whined, now crying himself.

"You gave your life to save them."

Harry looked back at her. "This can't be happening," he said hoarsely.

"You know it's true," she said. Her voice was so lovely, so full of unending love. "You were Voldemort's opposite. Only you could kill him and only he could kill you. He wanted _your_ death so he could be invincible. You entered this duel knowing you'd have to give your life to stop him."

Now Hermione cradled Harry in her lap, rocking him like a baby, her tears cascading down on his face.

"Are you ready?" his mother asked as she extended her hand toward the archway. Harry turned toward it and was all at once amazed.

Just moments ago he felt a torrential freeze spilling from the stone arch. Now it was…

Harry stood and simply looked into its golden depths. A white curtain hung from the arch but it couldn't contain the brilliant bright golden light that beamed from inside.

A splendid warmth spread all over him. He closed his eyes so he could feel it without seeing. It was _wonderful_. All he could feel was warmth; a deep, spectacular heat that seemed to radiate from inside him rather than from the archway. He was drawn to it, drawn to the bliss that lay beyond that white veil.

"Can you feel it, Harry?" Lily asked from his side. "Can you feel all of it?"

Though his eyes were closed, a few tears dripped down his face. "Yes," he whispered, smiling as he got closer to the archway. Through his lids he could see the light, he could feel everything… peace. He could feel _peace!_

He extended his hand and touched the veil. He knew now what lay beyond. It was everything wonderful. Touching that veil he felt it all. Love, peace, bliss. It was just beyond the curtain, ready for him to touch, to dive into. If his heart were still beating inside him it would've raced with excitement, eager to go on.

"HARRY!" he heard Hermione scream in anguish.

Harry opened his eyes and turned back. "Harry no!" Hermione sobbed, rocking him back and forth, her shaking hands in his hair.

"They love you," Lily said. "She would've done what I did—given her life for you. So would he, if given the chance."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What's going on?" he asked.

Lily stood beside him. "A sacrifice like this is given a choice."

"Choice?" he repeated. "I don't get it."

"You had purpose, meaning, and you fulfilled your destiny and duty. Self-sacrifice for the world is given a choice. You died to save, not only Ron and Hermione, but all of them. You get to chose."

Harry watched as Dumbledore ran into the room to tend to Harry.

"What? What do I get to chose?" Harry asked, looking down at her.

"Life or death," she said.

Harry frowned and turned back to her, the place beyond in the corner of one eye, Ron and Hermione in the corner of the other. "You mean if I wanted I could go back?"

Lily nodded.

"As a ghost?"

"No. You can go back, as if you'd never died. You can live again."

Harry looked at Hermione and Ron. Time had slowed down again; their movements were sluggish.

"This choice is given very rarely, but it is given. If you wish you can keep living from this point forward." Lily smiled as she looked up at him. "It's not an easy choice for you, is it?" she asked. "In life you suffered. In death there's peace."

Harry circled around to the archway again. Just standing her he could feel how wonderful it was. He'd heard it called many things: Heaven, Nirvana, Elysium. It was more than what he'd heard, more than he imagined. It was everything astounding.

"Well for some there's peace," Lily said. "Voldemort isn't there. He'll suffer for eternity like millions of others. Only the good and the selfless can enter here."

Harry twist away from it and watched Ron and Hermione. "So I can choose? I can go back and live, be with them, or I could go on and be with you?"

Lily smiled. "With me, with Sirius, with everyone who has loved you and everyone else who will love you. But Harry," she said gently, "death will always be there."

Harry kept turning his head to the archway then back to Hermione and Ron. Yes it was a hard decision, and she was right: death would always be there. But did he want to wait for it again?

"Do you know if Ron or Hermione---"

"In time they will join the rest of us. They will go like everyone else who is good, into the Place after life."

"And if I chose to stay behind now, does that mean I have to stay there forever?" he asked. If that was the case then his mind was made. Death offered more than eternity on earth.

"No," she replied. "When you die again you will be greeted and welcomed. Next time there will be no choice. You will join us."

Harry had to make it very clear. "If I choose death now, I can never go back?"

"Never."

"But if I choose life now, I can still go to heaven?" he asked, still unsure as to which choice he would make.

"Yes. You will still go to heaven."

Harry was torn. Beyond that veil was bliss. Life held Hermione and Ron.

"Do you know what I'll choose?" he asked her, tears blurring his vision of her radiance.

"Yes, but I can't tell you. What I can tell you is this: you have experienced so much turmoil and have only glimpsed life's joys. When I died I knew I had experienced everything worth living for. I had no regrets. I had done something, experienced earthly bliss that you haven't. And I'm not talking about sex, Harry," she said with half a smile. "I'm talking about something far greater. But," she said, turning her head toward Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and now Lupin, "with life's joy comes pain. There is no pain in death." She looked back at him with seriousness. "So what will you choose?"

Looking at Ron and Hermione Harry, could feel heaven behind him, beckoning him, welcoming him, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

"If I go back," he said shakily, "what will my second death be like?" he asked. "Will I outlive them? Will it be p-painful? Do I have to watch them die?" He wiped the tears from his face.

Lily's face remained passive. "I can't say. Choose soon Harry."

Harry walked away from the archway but could still feel its pleasant heat. The anguish on Hermione's face pained him. Ron was lost. Dumbledore was trying to revive Harry and Lupin was rocking back and forth.

Harry looked at Lily, tears in his eyes. "I want to go back."

A tear sparkled in her eye. She nodded.

In an instant she and the archway vanished, with it the warmth and harmony disappeared. Harry's eyes could see Hermione looking down on him, shedding her hot tears onto his cold face. The freezing floor sent shivers down his spine.

He blinked and coughed.

Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione froze as they looked down at him.

Harry's teeth chattered as the cold stone floor absorbed his returning body heat. He tried sitting up to look where the archway had been, but Hermione tackled him as she sobbed into his shoulder. She said his name over and over in his ear, but Harry didn't call to her. He stared, stared where heaven had been.

He was partially aware that Ron, Dumbledore, and Lupin were talking at him, all three of them weeping. Harry couldn't listen, he couldn't hear them.

His skin tingled from the cold, but Harry tried to recapture that feeling, that presence heaven had offered. He wanted to remember how it felt, that all encapsulating warmth that radiated from him… But it was gone.

"Harry," Hermione said, looking into his eyes. Her face was soaked in tears, her eyes bloodshot, her hair in disarray. "Are you…" she was close to hyperventilating, "are you all right?"

Harry's head lolled back and everyone made very loud hush sounds. Dumbledore shuffled over and took his head in his hands. "Harry?" he said, sounding worried.

Harry's eyes fluttered and he felt very light-headed and thought he might pass out. Lupin bent down and started to examine Harry.

"Harry can you hear us?" Dumbledore asked, looking intently into his eyes.

Harry moved his lips but no sound escaped.

"He needs to go to the hospital," Lupin said, sounding relieved but still anxious.

No one moved—all eyes were still on Harry. Harry wanted to say something so they knew he was all right. He tried to get his lips around a word, any word, so they knew he hadn't lost his mind.

"D-dead," he said.

Hermione grabbed a hand and squeezed it. "He's dead, Harry," she said as she tried to smile. "Voldemort's gone."

No, she didn't understand. That wasn't what he wanted to tell them. He wanted to sit up, to get off this freezing floor of the world, but was still to lightheaded and weak. In his attempts, his eyes rolled back, his body became limp, and he passed out.

o-o-o-o-o

It was warm again. Harry was curled up in it, wrapped in warmth… but he knew it was superficial. It was only a blanket.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was in a strange and very dark room. He pulled the thick blanket up to his chin as he stared. There was a door only a few meters away. He saw through the window a few blurry shapes of people, and heard their mumbling voices. He rolled over onto his other side and glimpsed a large window. It was night out but flickering light disrupted the darkness.

Harry squint and recognized the multicolored flashes. Fireworks.

Harry reached for his glasses and slipped them on, then, gathering the blanket around him, he eased off the bed he'd laid on, and ambled over to the window to get a better look.

He was up in the air, perhaps on the third or fourth story of this building. Down below him were hundreds if not thousands of people. When more fireworks burst in the air and illuminated the sky with brilliant colors, Harry saw a few of their faces. Some cried, some laughed, some did both, and many cheered and embraced one another.

There were banners flapping in the summer wind. Each one of them had "Harry Potter" written on them, with several praises of thanks under or above his shining name.

Harry's chest constricted as his eyes filled with tears.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Note on Human Condition: _

_I ended this story with a beginning. I left everything open should I, further down the road, wish to continue on this. I will never write a sequel. Human Condition is a stand alone story and Leucosia is dead. A sequel requires continuity of a plot and they're cannot be one now that the main villain has perished. What I might do is write another story based on the same universe: Harry has a daughter, Hermione is dating Jacob Verit, Ron is at Auror Training, etc. But there would be an entirely new villain with new goals and ambitions. Also I'd make it a him rather than a her. I've actually already thought of him. I like him more than Leucosia._

_Will I write more with this universe? I'm not sure. I'll play it by ear. If I did here's what you could expect: no Ashika Narayan (she annoys me now. Woman talks too much.), more Vanessa, plenty of Vampire Slayers, much more Ron and Hermione, not nearly as much angst (!) but much more happiness, romance but not fluff (Harry's not a real fluffy kind of guy), a new position at the Ministry of Magic Arthur thought of by reading Ian Fleming's James Bond, and more humor. See, I have plenty of plot bunnies (Hence the absence of an epilogue.)_

_I'm writing my own story now, an original piece, and I'm thinking of calling it "The Life of Jaden Baker." That's a working title. It's a little allegorical, very angsty, a lot of psychology, physics (I love physics), and evil scientists, and a really cool character named Seth, formally known as Orin. If you want to know more about it, check out my livejournal. I'll want to take a break from it which is where the fan fiction would come in. If there is one. I'm not sure I'll write it._

_I hope you enjoyed The Human Condition as much as I did. Over the next few weeks I'll be writing the second edition (ha ha) by revisiting the chapters and cleaning them up a bit. It's been over a year since I wrote the beginning chapters and I think that's a sufficient amount of time to let them simmer, don't you? Nothing will change it'll just get a bit cleaner. Chapters eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve need a face lift, ten especially. Eventually I'll get around to it and possible write it all over again._

_Thanks to all of you for reading it, giving me great praise, or not. The critical bits made me laugh, though, I must say. I took a few seriously, those with a good delivery, but laughed at most. Some of those remarks, whether cruel or not, made me feel as if this story was more than a fan fiction, as some people held very high expectations of it. So, if you're out there and you wanted to insult me, you didn't. Telling my something so outlandish and nit-picky made me glad that was all you could find to pick at._

_Oh, and about Narayan. If you ever wondered how she was the only one who knew about the "mind melding thing" it's because she put herself into that same coma after she saw her two year old son killed in a crossfire between wizards. This all happened about two hundred years ago. I've known this for a while, even back in Marauder Chronicles. There's a section where Ashika nearly cries when she watches/spies on Lily with little Harry. There was just never an appropriate time for me to insert this information. Ashika looks so young, around thirty-two, because her body stopped aging in order to trap itself in the bliss she had with her son and husband. After she lost her baby boy, her husband committed suicide out of grief and she swore to spend eternity fighting evil wizards._

_Thank you all again,_

_ck_


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